Lord of Them Thangz
by Comorep677
Summary: An epic adventure in the Lord of the Rings universe with shoes, koolaid, and abound weaves! WARNING: Contains Boondocks style humor and rough language. If you get offended easily, this story is not for you.
1. Chapter 1

The world has changed...

It can be felt in the water...

It can be felt in the earth...

It can be smelled in the air...

Much that once was is now lost. For none now live who remembered it.

It began with the forging of the Great Swags.

THREE sew-in weaves, cut from the straightest and silkiest of hair, dyed in white gold with diamond-leaded tracks, were given to the elves, the wisest and fairest of beings in Middle Earth. They are the only known beings to own the coveted GED, earned and forged at the local community college, and enshrined upon Louis Vuitton plaques...purchased  
at Wal-Mart for 3.99...

SEVEN gold and platinum Gucci jackets were give to the Dwarf lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. Always upon their front porches, their Dwarven flags waved everywhere. Their Dwarviachi music... always too loud.

And NINE. NINE gigantic diamond studded pairs of earrings were gifted to the race of men, who, above all else, desire power.

And shine.

For within these Swags was bound the strength, will, and freshness to govern each race.

But they were, all of them, deceived. For more Swag was made.

In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the dark lord Sauron forged in secret a Master Swag, to outshine all others. Some Gucci Bathing Apes and a pair of Air Jordans never meant to be mass produced or released, he forged into one pair. And into this pair, he poured his cruelty, his malice, his education from his Family Services AA Degree,  
and his will to pull all the bitches. All 43.

One Swagger to Stunt them All.

One by one, the free lands of Middle Earff fell to the power of his shoes, unscuffable, and without peer, no matter the year nor what the newest pair out were.

But there were some who resisted how fresh they looked.

T'was upon Sauron's Facebook account that King Isildur, half elven King of Gondor and leader of free men, posted.

Sauron posted a picture of himself, crouched down on knee, gangster swagger hands upon the air, next to his girlfriend whom he had met on the Tuesday before last. The King of Gondor, ThatKingTho , had posted  
that he, whom the dark lord despised, had "hit dat first."

The dark lord, ever rapid with his new $700 iPhone, in spite that he could not afford his light bill, texted his wrath upon the pages of the free men. The clash of posts went on, and the original deposer of the dark lord, the elf king Numenor, had allied with the men against the dark shadow that grew from Sauron's hail of selfies in the weight room of the local high school. The apple on his visitor's badge showed that there was a fire brewing as red as his Koolaid. As the post war raged, the fires of destruction spread onto twitter, and it was upon instagram the true war had begun.

The forces of men, elves, and now the dwarves, had all joined into an Alliance, declaring that Moon Fire-Fox, the dark lord's girlfriend, had the breasts of a pig. Now that shirtless photos of her began to spread, the title of "Piggeth Titticockus" was used in all references to her. At this new outrage, the dark lord's forces swelled. The orcs raged after their rims were claimed to aluminum. The trolls and the giants, frequent posters of car pics, joined ravenously into the war when the pictures of their cars were exposed to be close-up snapshots of polished Hot Wheels toys. The spider riders and the warg riders, infamous for fighting their pets and fleeing the ASPCA, had joined with the dark lord.

Known as The Great Instagram War, in S.A. 3429, the dark lord and his great evil, his great dark wisdom and malice rose to strike the alliance. He 'thumbs downed' all of Numenor's cat youtube videos, pressed 'Not' on King Isildur's wife's selfies upon Hot or Not. And finally, upon twitter and facebook, two great battlefields, he claimed he and his forces, or his 'Mordor niggas' were posted up, within the parking lot of Micky D's.

The war raged for days with no physical conflict, well, until the dark lord Sauron had posted a picture of King Isildur's mother, that the alliance had no prior knowledge of.

A grainy and yet blown up picture, of a elven woman, dressed in red and brown attire, holding a brown paper sack. Upon the sack lay a red insignia. In the elven woman's other graceful hand lay a metallic basket whom's design was made to be dropped into a square pit of boiling grease. And upon this pic, the blackened evil of Sauron had captioned:  
'This nigga's momma cook the fries at Burger King.'

Immediately, a last alliance of men, and elves, and dwarves marched against the armies of Mordor to fight.

They crossed the Misty Mountains over many passes and marched down Anduin where they were joined by Dwarves from Khazad-dûm, whose mothers also cooked the fries at Burger King. Elves from Greenwood Terrace on 33rd Street led by Oropher and the homie  
Thranduil, and Lothlórien Elves under 'Big Pookie' Gonzales. At the southern eaves of the liquor store, the host turned south-east and marched through Entwives Gardens Apartments. They, and probably the Ents themselves, violent and ignorant trees who were prone to great acts of violence after becoming fiery after the watching of too many rap videos, had been scattered by Sauron, through the finding and exposing that half of the forces had secret Pony collections.

But the Alliance held on, in spite of losing some of their forces who refused to participate in a parking lot fight after the Great Pony Pictogram Exposition.

The clash was met within the parking lot of the small palace of food, where there it was declared that the King's mother cooked the hot french fries heavily salted and that they were never truly fresh. When Sauron posed on the sidewalk with a Jumbo Large Fry with the words 'Yo Momma' scribbled in black ink from a marker, the battle commenced.

The great battle began to turn to the Alliance's favor, after the dark forces of Mordor made the grave mistake of making fun of Sharkeisha. Now joined by Sharkeisha, Estrelita Mercedes, and the great long filipino nails of Lil' Dee Dee Pinay, the alliance had gained the upperhand.

The hordes of Mordor began to be driven back and the wrath of the Alliance was great. But as victory began to near, King Isildur cried out a furious roar and a great iphone was held aloft, showing a prison mugshot of a great demonic beast of female form, all on the battlefield knew and recognized. Her hair was tattered and short, different from the great long white locks she was remembered for. And as the war stopped in awe of the picture, a great cry escaped the chest of Isildur: 'Sauron momma bald in jail! YO MOMMA BALD IN JAIL SMUDDY-ASS NIGGA!'

Sauron himself came forth. His onslaught was terrible.

As Isildur fell, his sword was broken beneath him. Yet Sauron was thrown down, too, and Isildur seized the hilt of the sword and cut off the finger on which Sauron wore the ring which housed the One Pair, which he had placed within the ring to prevent any possible scuffing in the battle. Being bereft of his shoes, and now that hot rageful tears  
began to wash his face over his mother, the elves cried out against the dark lord 'THIS NIGGA CRYIN!' and cell phones were held up to record that nigga crying.

Sauron no longer held a physical form and disappeared from all view in shame. He also almost scuffed his shoes.

The Pair passed to Isildur, who had this one chance to destroy evil forever. But against the orders to throw them into the fires of Mount Doom, he claimed it was a reparation, a great treasure with which to repair his shattered street cred that had been crucified upon the bloody battlefields of Facebook and Instagram.

But the hearts of men are easily corrupted and the pair has a will of its own.

He betrayed Isildur, leading him to believe he was thug enough to walk into the lands of Gladded Fields Apartments, but as the elders on the fifth floor say, "You Don't Go Up In There less you stupid."

And it was there, that the great king Isildur, the new High King of Arnor, got his ass whooped in the gas station over the last red Gatorade. The high king was no more.

The ring, forged from Sauron's mother's old jewelry which had been procured from Claires, within the 50% Off section, housed the dark lord's One Pair. The unscuffable, forever fresh shoes were lost in the depths of Anduin but the dark lord himself was not destroyed. He hid himself in the dark lands east of Mordor and is slowly rebuilding his  
strength. He is pulling impressive forces under the sway of his AA degree in  
Family Services, yet none know it is printed out on the back of a 2 For One special sheet from Pickle's Taco House on Smith Road in the bad part of town on a great plaque from the dollar store that hides the coffee stain.

Over the years, history became myth. Myth became legend, and for two and a half thousand years, the one pair passed from all knowledge until, when chance came, it ensnared a new bearer.

The ring, housing the One Pair, came to the creature Gollum who took it deep into the caverns of the Misty Mountains and there, with his dreams of Nascar and gaining a new trailer, it consumed him.

The Pair brought to Gollum unnaturally long life, and for 500 years, it poisoned his mind much more than the pollution from any Daytona event ever could, but not as much as the  
meth he frequented with his work injury checks from his slip fall in Denny's four and a half years ago. He claims "his sack-milly-sack still hurts."

Now, the time has come when Hobbits will shape the freshness...

Of All.


	2. Chapter 2

Down in the shire, a green beautiful land secluded from the ravenous  
forces of Middle Earth, retired Bilbo Baggins. A hobbit reknown, yet wishing  
to be unknown, and unreknown. And there he sat, ignoring today, which was his own birthday, which had become something of a holiday for the hobbits of the Shire. Yet his quill ever busily drinking from his inkwell, and his book of  
blank pages greedily drinking the words he etched of his memories, far too  
unbelievable and uncanny to be believable by the account of mere spoken words. 'A Hobbit's Tale' he called it, as he was busily etching the last few pages. And within this book, he recounted his younger years upon the play that was the strife between the orcs and thus the dwarves. With whom he and the Maiar wizard, Gandalf, were players upon that theatre stage of blood, death, and war. The elder Bilbo was suddenly thrust from his careful penmanship and his calculated thoughts by the shouting of his nephew, Frodo, from the outside of his home; "Lookit that nigga with the pointy-ass hat! Awwww shit, y'all, it's Big Dolf! He came to fo Uncle Bo's birffday!" were the words of joy and utterly absolute excitement that intruded through his window into his quiet home.

"...bug-eyed bastard." muttered Bilbo, his little, chubby, wise old  
face drooping into a frown.

"Why Ray-Ray always leavin' him with me...I can't STAND his stankin' lil' ass... drank all MY damn Kool-Aid...MINE...strawberry-kiwi too...she better buy some mo'..." muttered Bilbo under his breath, trying to reassess his memories in the most careful fashion.

The little sprite, merely a teenage image of Bilbo, happily hopped down the  
green hills from Bilbo's residence to match the point of direct contact with  
the smiling, grey wizard as his wagon slowly ambled down the dirt path.  
"GANDALF! Gandalf!" he cried joyously, getting the wizard's attention as  
he met him upon the green hill.

"Boy, is you out yo damn mind?!" Gandalf reprimanded the young hobbit, who now looked surprised and ashamed, yet confused for he did not yet know the reason for his reprimanding. "Running down the damn dirty ass hill with no not shoe one on them pig knuckles you call feet! LOOKIT him! Jus' screamin'! Mouth opened wide enough for birds and shit to fly in it! Cavities n' shit all out in the open! P-p-p-put some shoes on! Damn!" replied the grey wizard, looking up from his wagon to the little sprite upon the hill. Frodo's face turned downward as he rushed to place the bright, orange Sky Jimmy's Bilbo bought him from the grocery store inside the gas station.

"...ain't got no damn sense." muttered Gandalf in a lower tone, but yet still  
audible enough for the pointed, little rodent-like ears of Frodo to hear the  
wizard's words. "...hell's wrong with you? Trailer park ass nigga. Honey Boo Boo should be yo name. Wit' yo no common sense havin' ass."

Frodo quietly walked back to the cart with his ran-over, bright orange discount gym shoes. His face displaying his sorrow at his mistake.

The little hobbit rose his chin upwards, his downward eyes making contact with those of the wizard, as his little body upon a hill put him eye-level with the tall wizard in his wagon. "You late for Uncle Bo's birffday." the hobbit said confidently, his stance tall and strong, and his arms folded.

The wizard turned his gaze to the sky. "Oooohhhh sweet heaven, please, I beg of you, please, save from whoopin' this nappy rat's ass today...Wooooooh..." muttered Gandalf in a very low tone to the sky, and himself. "Firss of all, you mouse midget muthafucka, I'm a wizard. Okay? A wizard ain't never late, and ain't never too early. You know why? You listenin with them big ass mouse ears dusted up in them naps? Huh? You know why?! CUZ Gandalf do... WHAT EVA THE FUCK! ...Gandalf wanna do. Okay?! I'm GROWN. I'm like 300 or some shit, a'ight?! I'm a GROWN. ASS. MAN. I come when I FEEL like it, you feel me? I go WHEN I want. Gandalf gonna do...hyah hyah HYAAAHHH...whatever Gandalf wanna do!"

The little hobbit dropped his stance slowly, and uncrossed his arms. Yet the wizard continued.

"Ain't yo buck toof uncle taught you some sense? Lil' nigga was always scared,  
worried about bugs n' shit. And here you come, crazy no-shoes-wearin, nappy  
head uncombed, toe nails stankin', eyes crusty with duck butter n' shit.  
Damn! And why ain't yo ass at school?! Learnin about titties and germs and  
shit?"

"I read the books you left with my unc-" but the little sprite, as he climbed into the wagon next to the wizard, was  
verbally cut off.

"I had LEFT those books, cuz they hot, okay? I can't have no stolen books on  
me. I already got two strikes. But That ain't no reason not to take yo monkey  
ass to school! Lookitchu! Stinky ass bastard! You smell like gym shoes and ear wax! When you last washed yo ass?!"

"We hobbits dislike wa-"

"FUCK a dislike! I'mma levitate yo ass into some Dial, you nasty bastard!  
Feet all furry and dirty and shit. Look at yo nails! Them some claws!"

"Hobbits have claws on their toes for digg-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! Grown folks is talkin! Now, first of all, I'm over like...  
400 years old or some shit, but I know game and I know bullshit, you bug-eyed bastard! CLAWS?! Y-y-y-y-you...shit. Okay. You gonna skip n' slide yo nasty nekkid ass down the hill with no shoes on, teeth jus as yellah! And he SMILIN' too! All up in my face, breath stankin'! Head uncombed! No shoes! And them big ass Frito chip ass lookin toes you got, you gonna tell me those are claws?! THOSE AINT NO DAMN CLAWS! Shi...b-b...BOY, CLIP YO NAILS!"

"I'm sorry, Gandalf."

And with that, a Macy's discount pair of nail clippers appeared from within  
the space under Frodo's seat, where there just seconds ago had been none.  
And he clipped his nails, tossing the clippings out the side of the wagon.  
For Gandalf had raised his hand high, and proclaimed he would 'slap the rat'  
out of the hobbit's ass if he clipped his nails within the wagon and not over  
the side of it.

"Look, man. We just trynna celebrate lil' Bo's birffday today. He's been thru  
alot. He needs to lose some weight. He's got a ass like a fat stripper, but  
that's beside the point. See, I gots tah teach you right from wrong. I mean,  
look at me. Hoes all damn day. I lay that S-Curl on my beard, I tip my hat to  
the side. Look at this right'chere, boy!" And the wizard slightly lifted his staff, as the wagon and it's horse continued to amble down the road lazily to make it's way up the hill behind the quarters of Bilbo. The staff appeared to be a young sapling, yet it contained the very consistency and density of fine steel. And within the 'roots' at the top was locked a gem stone, that glowed with unearthly light.

"A staff...filled with magic powers..." the hobbit whispered as his eyes had  
widened in wonder.

"NAH! This a walking cane, baby! Lookit this shit! Hoes just, these bitches?  
They just FAAAALLLLL on a nigga. See, I'm not a wizard, see. I'm a player. With magical powers, see? So-so-so-so-so I walk up on these ol' dusty ass hoes, FRESHHHH to deff!" Gandalf glowed. "My cane just shining, and it's cuz I'M shinin'! My hair long, my beard lookin' fine, my nails clipped and clean, baby. Big Dolf do what it do!"

The little hobbit looked bored; "So it's a pimp cane?"

"Nah, see. I am a player. Player of the year. Every year. Everytime I hit up  
the Hobbiton Playa's Ball, ain't no competition." Gandalf began to chuckle  
in a high-pitched wheezing exaggerated laugh. "When Dolf show up, I just  
say, I jus say, I jus say, I jus say, I say...'WHAT COMPETITION.' HAAAAAAH!" The wizard fell back in his seat, his hands pressed against his chest as if his heart burst, and his chin tucked down in his chest causing the brim of his hat to cover his face. The wizard jiggled and wheezed aloud, all the while completely leaning to the left side. And next to him sat the young Frodo, his bright blue eyes dim with disgust.

"We at Uncle B's house now." Frodo claimed, while hopping off the wagon that  
slowly came to a stop.

"Fo' sho. Look lil' nigga, look. Me and Uncle Bo' got things to discuss, so why  
don't you go on somewhere. Ay yo, go on down to the dollar store, and get me some Kool-Aid." replied Gandalf, the great tall figure gracefully sliding down off the wagon and walking across the field to the little round house with no sign of fatigue or weakness.

"What flavor?" asked Frodo, to which Gandalf promptly replied "Red." Frodo  
hopped off the wagon and ran off to gain the ever-beloved Kool-Aid. Gandalf  
bent down to the short little door.  
He rattled the wooded door with a rhythmic knock, bending down to reach it.  
He heard foot steps and the utterance of the homeowner, his face spreading  
into a mischevious grin as the sounds surely of Bilbo approaching the door  
grew louder.

"...greedy ass niggas...birthday buuulllllshit...  
who they trynna kid? Cheap ass hot dogs and crackers, drinkin up my Kool-Aid..." and with the sound of the crabby little Hobbit's voice came the sound of the door latch opening. The little hobbit opened the door quickly with strength, his head bursting out from within the doorway.

"BITCH, I TOLD YOU THEM KIDS AIN't MINE!" he cried, before looking up to see his old friend Gandalf, and his spritely nephew behind. With sure signs of  
disgust, he let them within his home, walking forward to his table and grabbing his pipe.

"Shhhhhhhit...What chu want? Lee' me alone...shit..."

"How you gonna do Big Dolf like that B?! Happy birfday, homie. Y'know, we 'bout to TURN UP!" replied Gandalf, with a smile.

"I'm sick ah y'all. First, you brought them dusted, busted ass dwarf's all  
UP.., in my house. Tearin' my shit up, eatin' up all my goodies, drankin' my  
strawberry-kiwi. You know what, Dolf?! They left boo-boo stains on my shit,  
man! They ate all the damn noodles, drank all the beer, I mean, shit! And you  
ain't paid back shit!"

"You know what it is. Big Dolf don't pay a damn thing."

"H-h-h-how you gonna...YOU UP IN MY HOUSE. YOU BROUGHT THEM DIRTY ASS DUSTY ROCK NIGGAS IN MY HOUSE. DRANK ALL MY KOOL-AID! AND YOU GONNA... Dolf, you a worthless motherfuckah. You know that?"

"Nigga, git the fuck on. That was some 25-years-ago shit." Gandalf replied  
lazily and relaxed, leaning back in the hobbit's chair.

"You got...y-y-you...you got the GUMPTION...THE GUMPTION to come up in my shit, and you..."

"Nigga, I got magic. You a rat with big ass nappy feet. Fuck you gon' do?"  
the wizard quizzed, chuckling and amused. "I'll zap yo grey headed rat ass  
to Def-Con. I'll slap the rat out yo senior citizen ass, and make you look  
human, nigga. On my momma, dawg."

A quiet tension entered the room, when memories became subject of conversation.

Bilbo spoke up.

"Do you remember Smaug? I couldn't...SSTTAAAANNNDD...that red, greasy bastard." Bilbo muttered, remembering the once fierce Smaug, a great  
dragon akin to a bird with the head of a feathered serpent, his great wings  
of feathers spanned the width of a sailing vessel, his strength able to snap  
oaks into splinters, and his smile...niggerish, and without shame.

"Ugh! I KNOW. That greasy bastard. Always claimin' he knew what was down. He didn't know shit. Lyin' ass."

"He was always, always, ALWAYS up on Facebook. With them ghetto ass pictures!Just a big ass dragon, wings all tucked up, and mountains of Bathin Apes, caps with tags, Air Jordans, and Madden Z-Box games. And you remember the shit he would post on them pics?! 'Duh Boss of Moria'. Oooh!" furiously reminisced Bilbo. "I wrote down that ghetto shit he posted too! In my book, see?" Bilbo chimed, handing pre-written draft page to Gandalf. And the grey wizard read aloud, reading the words the great dragon had once boasted to Bilbo:

"Look upon me, you poor ass bitch! My scales, each one tatted to look  
just like a Air Jordan shoe! And each scale represents each one kinda pair!  
The scales upon my chest, each scale tatted to look just like a Bathin Ape!  
My teef are constellations, $10,000 of diamonds per toof! My claws, Gucci 14K white gold plate, nigga! The shock of my tail is like a punch in the th'oat!  
And my wings? SPINNING, 26 inch rims cover them, my wingspan is a spinning mirror, and I am blinded when I see myselff! ...and my breaff... Gucci limited edition strawberry coconut mint!"

Bilbo shuttered at the memory of the great, vain beast; "Stuntin' ass bastard.  
Smaug was always posting pics of himself buried in mountains of cash, just  
smilin'. The whole wall ah stone was jus covered with hats! And he...he, that  
smilin' bastard couldn't wear ONE OF 'EM!"

"Calm yourself, my friend. For the great dragon is dead. And far greater matters have come upon us to-"

"THA FUCK YOU TALKIN LIKE THAT FO'?! WHATCHU THINK THIS IIYUUSS? BLUES CLUES?! Errbody in Midda Earf KNOW you took your raggedy grey ass to Misty Mountain Community College before the ghetto made it shut down and turn into a cell phone store! But still!"

Gandalf inhaled, his displeasure apparent; "...ignorant ass bastard. See! See!  
see! I'm trynna...I-I-I'm trynna pass the KNOWLEDGE on, and you just...j-j-j-j-just ghetto as hell. See, I'm honest wif mine! Gandalf tell it like it is, ALWAYS!"

"You a lyin' ass." retorted Bilbo.

"Nigga, fuck you." said Gandalf.

"Okay, okay! Okay! Ay yo! You real, HUH?! Remember them pictures you used to post back in the day?! When you was up in the Undying Lands Apts., on Earf-Space?"

"Nigga. FUCK. You." said Gandalf.

"Yeahhhhh, you keep it real, huh?" and with that, Bilbo carried written records of the once younger Gandalf based upon the tales he had been told, or memories magicks allowed him to see. And upon there, were the pictures of a tall, thin, and very beautiful effeminate beauty, the most gorgeous beautiful virgin maiden. The jaw line smooth, the flesh soft, the cheeks rosey. Long, silky, blonde hair flowed in the wind and ran down the back and across the face. And upon the bottom of the picture were the logo words etched 'Mo'Realle. Because I'm Beautiful.' 'Model: Gandalf Duh Fine'.

"See, big nigga was making checks from MO'REALLE. That's the discount shit at the truck stops! N-n-n-nex-next to tha foot creams!" flustered Bilbo.

Gandalf's grey eyes analyzed the young fellow. "...m-m-man...man, see,see,see,see,see THAT was back before any o' y'all was born! And see...see...okay, look. Like...back then, right? Hoes, see, hoes had gigantic titties and asses, right? And I mean they ALL...ALL OF 'EM...was just super, duper, uber FINE, right! And see, a G...a BOSS, LIKE ME, at THAT TIIIIIYYYYIIMMEEE, we looked...w-w-we looked like how girls do right nah! So-so-so so see, today, that would look like a hoe. But see, at that time, I was looking like a HARD ass G, see?! Why they named me Gandalf! See-see-see, the GAAAAAN, that's...that's Cherokee for Boss, right? And-and-and-and..the Dolf...t-th-th that's...from...the Carbon Dioxide tribe... f-from the jungles... of... Atlantis. Yeah. See, y'all don't know cuz y'all ain't educated! But the Dolf, that means 'Player Masculine Don', see?! So, back then, guys like me? Like them elf dudes? We looked like the hardest, baddest, gangstas on that MANLY lumberjack shit! For real. See these hoes right now, they look...look like bad ass MANses-ses back then! And there ain't no fine bitches like that no mo', cuz...cuz they went extinct...due...to...the fine-bitch virus of '64. FBV, we called it. See, y'all young ass bastards wouldn't be up on that historian channel shit, like me, see."

Bilbo rolled his big brown eyes. Gandalf continued his explanation.

"NIGGA, NAW! See...LOOK! I needed a job! And the cash flow was hot on that shit, so look! Ain't nobody saw my face! A nigga on the grind... I LIKE HOES!"

But before he could finish, Bilbo interrupted his answer.

"Because you got yah ass beat at the taco stand! Remember?!"

He looked at the Hobbit with a puzzled look. "Nah. Y'all stupid and can't 'member shit."

"What about them big ass Mordor niggas, you told me about? Morgoth n' nem! They beat cho ass in the parking lot at the taco truck! Why you lyin'?! YOU WAS HIDIN' UP in YO AUNTIE HOUSE NIGGA! Yuh HUH! ALL THAT BIG GANGSTA SHIT, and You was twirlin in a dress on the innernet cuz you didn't wanna gitcha _ass_ beat at the taco truck no mo'."

At this the wizard's displeasure grew and he began to increase in height, increase in mass, in weight, in strength, and power. His eyes glowed white, and his hair sparked with electricity. And his voice, now bellowing like a storm, blew forward towards the little Hobbit, Bilbo, and his wise, powerful hands crooked up into strange, claw-shaped hand-signs from his side of the street.

"SOUTH SIDE, E-BLOCK, Lil' FUCK-NIGGA, DON'T GET WET!" thundered from his voice. "Nigga."


	3. Chapter 3

The bright illuminating sky had turned into a reddish-orange wash upon the great, green hills of the Shire as morning had become dusk. The little collaboration of homes, no more than large burrows into the soil and the hills, fitted with rounded wooden door frames and wooden doors, some with windows of glass and wood, began to empty. The Shire's little, rodent humanoid citizens began to exit their private homes to socialize and be  
merry with one another in the relief and joy of another day of labor finished, and the hot rays of the sun replaced by the cooling air of the oncoming night. Though all the families of hobbits which dealt within the Shire socialized, the most beloved and most famed among them, was always a empty chair and absentee; Bilbo of the Baggins family.

After much time, the great grey maiar Gandalf, had begun to inform the hobbit of the Baggins lineage about a great threat regarding the ring of invisibility Bilbo so greedily hung to for antiquity and memory sake. But yet, this did not occur until after much time of the great maia screaming his native side of the neighborhood, yet in a town unnamed nor proven to exist. Yet still, this mystery town, and it's section of 'E-Block' would be proud to know how heavily represented t'was it by a great being of magic to a small weak gnome. Locked within the safety of his own home. Behind closed doors. The great wizard shouted and boasted the side of the south, and how his yet unseen and nonexistent 'chopper' gets them other negroes wetted upon the spray, from a window of his 1979, with the 28 inch rims accompanied by elbows thrusting outwards. After the maia had regained his calm, he chose to resume his visit in kindness as he originally set out to do.

The knowledge that Gandalf the Grey had rapidly spread throughout the entire Shire, for he was a famous wizard. Yet the hobbits' only knowledge of the depths of his powers were to cause great, colorful explosions to erupt within the air, showering the countryside with colored light, and the wonder of the audience. All houses of the Shire had emptied to a great low place of gathering in the middle of the village, in celebration of what was the birthday of Bilbo Baggins. Tables, chairs, food and drink were placed out. And every family line that had ever existed was represented by every still living family member. And the still-in-use antiques of those no longer walking Middle Earth.

For hours went dance, song, merry and what Gandalf privately referred to as 'cheap tricks'. As the lands of the Shire were thoroughly dressed in the music styles of chopped n' screwed, and music with heavy bass, hobbit maidens, young and old, married and unwed, turnt up to the middle of the lands, squatted down, and began to twerk their gnomish ass cheeks up and down, all around. They held the lower ends of their dressed high above their shoulders, so the thick plumpness of their reddish white buttocks could be seen and heard clearly, clapping with the beat. Yet, they never held their tresses high enough to cover their heads, for false locks of red, and pink, and blue, bounced upon their backs as what was joyously referred to as 'hair-doos'. Upon their lower backs, right above the buttock lay ink permanently laid into the skin through the use of needles. And these signs spelt out 'Princess', 'Boss Bitch', 'Da Realest Bitch', 'U 8NT KNO', 'Married tuh A Bawss' and upon one 'Lil Boo Boo's Bish'. Hobbit men, especially the plump Samwise of Gangee, laid their heads upon the fat rumps while holding aloft their pipes or sipping their ale. And the phrase most frequently cried was "Dere she go! Lookit dat ass on that big-footed ho!"

Amidst the fine, Shire twerking and booty-meat thumping, a toast was called for, especially this night. For this was the birthday of Bilbo Baggins. And it was not just to commemorate the birthday of Bilbo, but also the rare occasion that Bilbo of Baggins has joined them in their merriment for the first time since his return from the great time of Smaug, and his desolation of the lands through using his youtube account to make fun of those who could not show off 'wads of cheese' or great claws full of money. Smaug was a hater, and a stunter, the likes of which Middle Earth had not seen in millenia. And the entire lands of men and mer hoped to never see again. For many, ate hot dogs momma bought from the dollar store. All the hobbits began clapping and cheering in joy as Bilbo began to amble towards a small wooden table to stand on, and the joyous voice of Frodo could be over the crowd crying and cheering "You the realest, Uncle Bo'!" Bilbo deftly and awkwardly climbed upon the table, and as his visage stood where all eyes could see, the sound of the crowd quiet in anticipation of his words.

"My dear Bagginses and Boffins!" the crowd cheered as the Baggins and Boffins held their cups aloft.

"Them Tooks and Brandybuck niggas bout the way,"

The crowd cheered and the sound of "Awwwwwww shit!" could be heard.

"Grubbs, Chubbs, Brazilian-Weaves, Jeinkins, Washingtons, Roosevelts, Reyezes, Bolgers, 4th Ward Boys, Dookie n' nem, them niggas cross the street, and Lil' Boo Boo n' nem!"

Amongst the cheers, a older hobbit yelled from his seated position, presumably Lil' Boo Boo himself: "We the Proudfeet clique! Niggas be representin!"

The crowd laughed as Bilbo muttered "Git the fuck on, bruh." Bilbo continued his speech to his home town.

"Today is my one hundred and eleventy twoth birthday!"

The crowd cheered and Frodo could be heard screaming from the back "OLD ASS NIGGA!"

Bilbo continued; "Alas, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such some of the realest and trillest hobbits."

The cheers abounded.

"I don't know half like I want and... ...shit, I need to stop lyin'. I don't like NUN-AH-y'all ratchet raunchy ass niggas anyway. Can't stand niggas LIKE YOU!"

A dead silence covered the crowd. From the back, Frodo Baggins could be heard clearly with a echoing yell that flew over the heads of the silent crowd, "Nigga, fuhh you!"

Dead silence continued.

The rest of the hobbits began to gaze at each other with blank expressions. And the wizard Gandalf smiled.

"Man, Look... I got shit to do..." Bilbo muttered as he fidgeted with the ring behind his back.

"Look... I'm out. I am going now. I kindly bid you all a "fuhh you" and a merry "gitcha ass on"."

And with that, the little hobbit disappeared altogether completely from view. Sounds of fear, amazement, and grief slowly arose from the confused crowd like steam emanating from a hot steak. But the sounds of rapid, little footsteps akin to a mouse the size of a human child did not go unnoticed by the wizard. These little rapid footsteps reached the front door of Bilbo's home, which seemingly opened by itself and closed with a hard energetic, yet quiet slam.

Inside the house, Bilbo reappeared as if by magic, laughing heartedly. His face stretched into a joyous smile exposing his rodent-like front teeth, a expression and laugh he had rarely if ever expressed since his adventure with Gandalf and the dwarves all those many years ago. As the hobbit giggled and snickered his humorous exit, a great grey figure seemingly merely just walked out of a shadow from around the corner, as if he had been hiding in a shadow around the door corner the whole time. Yet he had not.

"You think you CUTE, dontchu..?" Gandalf begged the question.

The little hobbit's face shrunk into a frown mimicking that of a reprimanded child;  
"C'mon DOLF! Didju see them ratchet ass niggas, mayne? Everybody scared of ghostesses and shit! Puttin' up Mezuza's and callin' prayer hotlines and shit tonight! HAHAHAHAHA!"

The wizard slowly pulled his pipe from his mouth;  
"There are many magic rings in this world, Bilbo Baggins, and...look, don't be playin with that magic shit! Ouija boards, magic rings, n' shit! Nah, man! You gonna fuck around and end up with some boogaloos and spook-a-boos hauntin yo hole! See, look, you keep fuckin' with that ring, you gonna have some boo-gah-bop shit goin' down. ...and I ain't fuckin wit no ghosts. Heeelllllllll no."

The hobbit looked down at the gold ring in his hand,  
"I was just actin a fool, man, cmon. But your right."

Bilbo fiddled with the ring in his hand, his head low in heavy thought;  
"We homies, right? You watch Frodo?"

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttttt..."  
replied the wizard, turning a circle and looking up at the ceiling.

"I'mma leave my stuff to him. My soul records, my vcr, my vhs, thats some treasure right dere."

"...this mutha...fucka...nobody wants your dusted up bullshit..." replied Gandalf.

Bilbo began to pack most of his most beloved belongings, and many provisions for a long journey. Some items seemed to already be travel-ready.

"What about that ring?" the wizard asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Nigga, shit! Yeah, shit! It's over there! On the table! Damn! Go'on!"

"Nah." replied the wizard.

The hobbit's eyes began to twitch nervously; "Ugh...HUH...Aww shit, it's...here...in my pocket? ...h-h-how this happened? ...the ring got a will of it's o-" But before the hobbit could continue, Gandalf interrupted him.

"Stop that LYING, you sneaky-ass Tom and Jerry lookin' bastard! You trynna be on the sneak! You think you SLICK! DONTCHU?!"

The hobbit fiddled nervously;  
"Nah, see, w-w-w-what had happened was I was packin' right? And- so, like, I was tinkin about that Took hoe. You know, the one that had that big BIG OL' ASS just clappin, right? And see I had MEANT...to put IT...in the envelope on the desk, but BEIN A MAAAAN, I had forgot, because...see...I'm thinkin about smashin befow I go. SEE, LOOK, I aint got no need to sneak! Because I;m a grown ass MAN. I'm Bilbo, nigga. I'm one hundred AND TEN. One hundred AND TEN! I'm five Jacksons and a 10 NIGGA! Errybody know me, my whole hood love me! I got the Shire on my back! A nigga TAKE what he want, and DO what he want! Shire niggas dont sneak! We murk niggas DOWN! Proudfoots n' nem KNOW!"

The wizard raised his eyebrow in suspicion, looking down at the little hobbit. At this, the hobbit continued;

"...okay, see, look. See, I got some business deals ONLINE. And I'm a MAN about my bih-ness, unnerstand?!  
I'm makin this money and see-"

Gandalf calmly interrupted; "We in like 300 AD or some shit. AIN'T no online."

"...okay, see, what had happened wuz-"

"Shut that flip-flop shit up, nigga." interrupted Gandalf "You a lyin' ass. You been lyin since Smaug n' nem. Nigga can't lie to save his life. Leave that ring here."

The hobbit's face became sullen and paranoia was expressed in his face's expressions.

"Now it comes to it. You GON tell ME what I better do, huh? LIKE im a child. NIGGA...NIGGA you look like a big, grey- ass talkin MOP! NAH! I ain't leavin a FUCKIN THING. Yeaahhhh. What's really good, nigga?! I'll jump there and punch yo Swiffer-Sweeper lookin ass down, nigga! ON MY MOMMA DAWG!"

The wizard calmly spoke to Bilbo; "CHILLLLLLLLLLL. There's no need to get angry."

"AY YO, IF IM ON MY GANGSTA SHIT, ITS YO FAULT! ON MY MOMMA, DAWG! AINT NOOOOBODY TALK TO ME LIKE DAT! I GOT STRIPES! I'mma OG! BILBO DON'T PLAY NO GAMES! I AINT PLAYIN WITCHU, NIGGA!"

The wizard stood there calmly, hoping his demeanor would calm his old friend.

"B-b-besides. This shit mine. I can turn invisible, peek at titties and touch coochies all day...nah, this shit mine...My own...my FRESHNESSSssssssssss..."

"The freshness? It's been called that by some big nigga before you ever did."

At this, hobbit rapidly spun around. His eyes bulged twice the size of normal, sat in sunken and black orbits. His white hair flared up like a demon itself, and his little white rodent-like teeth took a completely human shape but yellow and jagged. He appeared as a demon, and his voice began to become multi-tone, as if more than one being was speaking through him. In this he screamed at the wizard as he put up his child-sized fists. "WHAT BUSINESS IS IT OF Y-"

A huge, white and graceful hand swung backwards across the hobbit's face. And with the sound of a wet, slimy fish being slapped with another and bigger wet, slimy, fish did the hobbit fall backwards and slide across the floor until he slid to a stop under the table.

"MUH FUCKAH! I'm GANDALF, NIGGA! I'll hit a child AND I'll hit a rat! Now, you can pull that exorcist shit if you want to, but I'll bust yo gopher groundhog ass, all rolled up in one night, ALL UP IN HERE! I DONT CARE HOW SMALL YO SHIT IS, I'LL BEAT CHO ASS IN YA HOUSE! YUH HUH! GANDALF WILL BEAT CHO ASS...IN YO OWN HOUSE...! Go head! Make a exorcist face! I dun curr! Do Jurassic Park, SHIT, do Jaws for all I care! You can even do Halle Berry, or one ah them Kardashian hoes, I'mma put hands on a gopher ass nigga steppin to me! I'll leave shoeprints in that ass!"

Bilbo slowly got up from the floor weeping. With the big, pink hand print across his face he stumbles to Gandalf, hugging the wizard, who places his hands on the hobbit's shoulders and pats him gently.

"You right, Gandalf. Frodo can have it, man I gotta go...that ho know where I live anyway, and court says it's mine. So I gotta go."

Gandalf gently lowered himself to one knee, making him eye level with the hobbit. He placed his hands on the hobbit's shoulders and gently spoke to him in a consoling matter as a parent would a young child.

"You act like a bitch, I'll treat you like a bitch." Gandalf said gently, smiling.  
The hobbit shook his head, looking down, frowning and remorseful.

Rapidly, the little hobbit gathered his things, and then with his walking stick in hand, he opens the door to his home. With his body's posture clearly claiming farewell, he began to step out the door.

The wizard turned towards him, "Nigga, please don't try me."

The hobbit stopped and fidgeted in his pockets.  
"O-Oh oh yes, sorry."

And he pulled the ring from his pocket and placed it on his table, thus walking out the door. He stopped in the doorway and turned to Gandalf, smiling.

"I just thought of a ending for my book: 'Bury me a G. This goes out to my niggas P-Foot, Lil' T, Boo Boo, J-Four,  
Dookie Steez, and Swagwize D Beest. Shire 4 Lyfe.'"

Gandalf smiled, "Nigga, you ain't no G. You just a grey head gopher from a trailer park. Git tha fuck on, bruh."

Bilbo turned his back and responded "The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began…"

And Gandalf replied, "Stop readin' ya boy's twitter."


	4. Chapter 4

Gandalf gently closed the door to the little home that once was Bilbo's and now belongs to Frodo. As he walked back into the house, he eyed the ring sitting on the desk. Remembering the trouble he had with mere mortals affected by it, he went to pick it up. But at the moment his had was mere inches from it, a great red elliptic eye had appeared in his mind, seemingly entrenched in fire. And within his head echoed a unearthly voice that seemed to use his own energy and proximity to the ring as a means of conducting a connection. The voice, whispering ghostly and with the essence of wind, filled his mind: "Wwwwwwhhhhhaaaaaaatttt'ssss goooooOoooOooddd TTtthhOOoooo?"

Gandalf snatched his hand from the ring, despising and equally fearing the absolute ignorance and ghetto niggerish shit that was Sauron. Gandalf sat down, far from the ring, rapidly thinking and reminiscing. "Riddles in the Dark." he said. And though t'would appear he was speaking to himself, he in actuality held within his lap a old magazine that Bilbo had left amongst most of his things, to Frodo. A magazine with a large, brown skinned pair of breasts and beads clearly from a time of disco appeared on the cover. 'Riddles In The Dark' it said in large letters at the top. And near the bottom lay words, the ones which pulled to Gandalf silently, yet the strongest. 'Big Black Titties And Foxxy Mommas'. Gandalf puffed his pipe greedily as he thoroughly delved into the book.

"Riddles in the dark! ...I'mma riddle my hands between some big ol'-"

At that moment, the front door opened, Bilbo's young nephew Frodo came walking in a hurry, his large blue eyes rapidly searching the house for his uncle. "Bilbo! Bilbo!" he cried aloud, his mannerisms mundane and average like he hath done this call of his great Uncle's attention a millions of time before. A barely noticeable sense of urgency touched his actions, a sign of seeking to question why Bilbo had disappeared and whether or not he still existed on this world.

"Ah...hey! HEY! SHIT!" fluttered from Gandalf's mouth. The wizard rapidly sought to stand up, but between the actions of hiding the book in his lap, pulling his hand from betwixt his knees, and attempting to pull his pants up, his knees touched one another while his feet spread wider apart in his stance. His pipe fumbled from his mouth and became entangled in his beard, spilling it's green and black contents down the lower end of his beard. The lower end of his beard began to slowly smoke as the pipe lay entangled in the center, and with one hand still stuck down his trousers, he cried aloud "SHIT!" and whipped his head left and right as if he was frantically saying 'no', all in an attempt to fling the pipe from his beard without use of his hands. The left hand angrily and with much rage attempted to shove the magazine within his robe along the sides of his hips. Yet sadly for Gandalf the Grey, his robe hath no pockets. His legs straightened out into a squatting position, and stamping one foot he cried aloud "MUHH FUCK!" Bilbo stood in the parlor, staring wide eyed at the wizard from behind, entranced by the sounds and the spectacle. The magazine fell to the floor, and the wizard shoved his left hand to loosed his right hand, which was bound up by his layers of robes and knotted by his rapid attempt at standing. The long, thin, skinny white legs of Gandalf shone in the firelight, hairy and the knees ashy. The magazine was rapidly thrown into the fireplace, and slowly the wizard regained his composure. Gandalf sat back down, calmly and with a unearthly grace. Slowly, and calmly handling the pipe in his beard, all in an attempt to make it appear the object was merely handled, and not being detangled. With frustration. "My precious..." he said to himself, attempting to appear lost in meditation and contemplation. Completely forgetting by willful thinking that the little hobbit just watched the spectacle he just performed. And the fire consuming a book entitled 'Big Black Titties'.

Frodo, confused, suppressed the urge to snicker. For Frodo was the grandest of the assholes to dwell within the Shire. Bilbo approached the wizard, his demeanor calm and melancholy as that which he wished he knew was true.

"He's gone hasn't he? He talked for so long about leaving. I didn't think he'd really do it. He spent the last of 7 years claiming his mixtape would drop. And yet, all he had done was spit verses at the well in the morning." said Frodo.

The wizard sat unaffected. Unmoving. Non Reacting, as if lost in another world.

Frodo looked puzzled. "Gandalf?" he said. And yet the wizard still seemed lost.

"Is your pipe still tangled in your naps?"

At this, the wizard rapidly turned around, smiling and with a joyful look.  
"Hmm? Why, young Frodo, I was lost in...thinking." Frodo looked at wizard, thinking to himself "Lying ass nigga, he was jackin off in my uncle's chair."

Gandalf looked up to see that Bilbo's ring, left on his desk, had found itself in Frodo's little hand. "Bilbo's ring." Gandalf said, holding up a envelope with his right hand. "Bilbo's gone to stay with the Elves. He's left you Bag End…"

A long silence passed between them.

Frodo's large innocent eyes searched Gandalf's face. "...I don't want this shit ass town."

"DAMMIT, FOOL!" cried Gandalf in frustration, "Put the damn ring IN THE ENVELOPE!"

"I ain't touchin that hand." relaxingly replied Frodo.

"What you talkin about?!" nervously asked Gandalf.

"You had that hand all up in them big, grey balls." calmly said Frodo. "That hand smells like a salami sandwich."

"I WAS BUT LOST IN THE DREAMS OF THE MAIA, MUCH YOU COULD NOT COMPREHEND COMES TO M-"

"You had your hand all...UP...in your big, grey balls. Gandalf the Nasty is what they should call you. I seent you. You got your shit stuck in all the robes too. You was sittin in that chair just flappin and slappin till I walked in here."

"GANDALF THE GREY DOES NOT FLAP N' SLAP!"

"You even burned up the titty book. How you gon' act like that?"

"You lil' shit." muttered Gandalf as he let go of the pipe still entangled in his beard. The pipe swung from his beard as if it was a entangled ornament hung upon a tree. He switched the envelope into his other hand and held it aloft.

"The ring is yours now." Gandalf said "Put it somewhere out of sight."

"You nasty as hell."

"There are some things that I must see to." returned Gandalf, snatching up his staff and his hat.

"You nasty."

"YOU PROBABLY...have questions that need answering, young Baggins."

"No I don't. I KNOW, that you is nasty."

Gandalf stormed out the door before turning around, his eyes showing a sense of urgency. And anger. Whilst in the doorway, he turned to Frodo. "Keep it secret. Keep it safe."

"Keep your hand safe from your balls."

"Little fuck." Gandalf said, leaving the hill.

"Nasty." Frodo called out loudly from the window.


	5. Chapter 5

Deep in the grim, dark lands of Mordor, a blackened stone tower of spires and points akin  
to a bloomless rose composed of soot-covered broken glass penetrated the sky, dark as night  
yet the volcanic ash covered the land as if it was a perpetual night. Oozing rivers of fire  
bled in rivets a neighbouring volcano, like the destructive glowing pus of a pointed boil.  
The lava pours around, as armies of the black, colored grim, non-Republican Liberal BEASTLY  
races struggle to build the tower's foundations even higher.

The sounds of lava, smoke, clanging of metal, and the faint sound akin to herds of pigs is  
broken by a piercing scream that shatters through the city, bouncing off the walls and flying  
through the alleys like a ball in a brick maze. A shrill, high voice of a small, hoarse creature  
is heard. The voice of Gollum, tortured in the halls of Mordor.

"I ain't tattlin'!" the hoarse high voice guttered forth.

"Kay." said a deep, swinish orc voice.

The sounds of cell phone beeps could be heard.

"'Lo? Is this Betty Gene "Cupcake" McIntyre? Yeah. Ay yo, shorty, check. Remember you said you wanted to know  
where Sugar Poo-Poo's daddy ran to? Yeah. We got 'im."

The large eyes of Gollum frantically twitched in a panic.

"Oh, he's got money for child support. Yess'm. He was planning on buying some new truck nuts for  
his ATV. Yeah, the one with the beer cans painted with the confederate flag on the back. Muh fuckah  
rightchere."

"NOOO!" cried the hoarse voice. "Child support take all Gollum's 'Benny's Breakfast Trailer'  
worker's comp!"

"You can go, if you tell us where them shoes at!" screamed the orc. "That fat biscuit guppin'  
bitch gon be all *UP* in here in 15 minutes! She got unpaid child support on paper!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Wiff interest, NYUGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

"PLEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASE! Let Smeagol GO!"

"Nah!" screamed the orc, throwing the imp's chewing tobacco out the window,  
"You KNOW yo ass can't pay that shit! T.C.L. already called, too! You gon' be the NEXT SUGAR BEAR!"

"*SSSHHHHHIIIIIIRRRRREEEEEE*!" screamed the little faery, "BAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGIIIIINNNNNNSSSS!"

And with that cry of omission, a jet black 1987 candy paint cadillac sped out of the doors of Mordor.  
The witch kings rode inside. For t'was Bumpy, Lil' Boo Boo, and Big Choke who sat deep within the car,  
it's windows tinted. And twas driving the hooded figures none other but the infamous DeQuan. Fuck with  
one, thus...

...you fuck with all...

...Squad Up.

Upon the back in white decals it read, "I Don't Give a Fuck."

For surely... they gave not one.

-

In the peaceful, cooling calm evening of the Shire, the small little hobbits took their lives  
of tranquil, predictable mundanaeity. One such little hobbit stood, chopping wood for the evening to  
enjoy a nice book and a pipe accompanied to a cup of tea, but his canine companion began to panic  
aloud. A huge shadow crosses the house as a hooded stranger, akin to a shadow wearing cloth just as  
black draws nearer. A glistening black 1987 Cadillac slowly and silently cruised up the grassy hill,  
'fuck the police' playing nigh inaudible. The window, tinted the color of death, slowly slides down  
and a black hood, inside headless, yet it lay sitting upon a force the shape of a human form, studies  
the hobbit. It appeared as if a shadow took to cloaking itself in cloth and metal. A whispering voice  
hisses from the fleshless hollowness of the black cloak the terrified hobbit stares into.

"Shirrrrre. Bagginsssssss." pours from the empty space, like steam.

"Baggins? A-A-Ain't no Baggins 'r-r-round here. Them niggas up in Hobbiton Heights." stammered the shivering  
hobbit.

"Sssssssnitch asssss niggahhhhhhhhhhh..." And with that, the window rolled up and the cadillac sped off across  
the grassy hills.

-

The night of Hobbiton was filled with cheer and song. The tavern hall, filled with talk, song  
and laughter as drunken fay caroused merrily. Deep within, Merry and Pippin danced upon the table of  
the Green Dragon, drunken. In a intoxicated joy, they sang to their heart's content.

"Hey you ho, that brown bottle tho!  
These fairies can't see us on this flow!  
Rain may fall and wind may blow,  
Fuck that child support, tho!"

At a nearby table, two older, white haired Hobbits were engaged in serious discussion with Frodo Baggins  
and his lifelong friend, Samwise Gangee.

"There's been some strange folk crossing the Shire. Dwarves, and others of a less than savoury nature."  
mundanely spoke the eldest imp, his rodent-like teeth slightly chewing his pipe as he inhaled the smoke,  
speaking of such a radical event as if it was no more important than losing one radish to rot out of his  
local garden.

The second eldest spoke up in a more animated response, his harelike upper lip twitching akin to the nervous  
rodents he so resembled,  
"War is brewing. T-t-the mountains are fair TEEMING with goblins..."

Samwise, opposite of the two, appeared as if no reaction had even taken conception in his psyche, as he  
took a long, confident and relaxed pull of his pipe. Standing up tall in his chair and twitching his ears  
back in a uncaring pose, his large eyes quickly shifted to look at the thick-set, brightly haired hobbit  
waitress behind the bar. Her expert senses matching his, she flashed him a huge flirtatious smile knowing  
his alpha male positioning is for her attention. Her large rabbit-like eyes batted and her shiny, white,  
rodent-like teeth shone pearlescent in the light of the tavern, displaying her approval and giddy attraction.

As the older hobbit's ears begin to fold back in fear, he continued his fearful repeat of news of goblins and  
dangers coming into the shire, but he was cut off mid-sentence by his older compatriot.  
"BULLSHIT! Up-shut your shit, you grey guineapig mother fucker. Thats some twitter bullshit from these young  
bastards, all that shit is. You're beginning to sound like that old Bilbo Baggins. ...fuck Bilbo. That nigga  
was ghetto as hell."

Frodo, trying to feign a smile over his mug, could not stop his own ears from folding back in insult, betraying  
his emotions inspite of his poker face.

"Lookit him!" laughed the eldest hobbit at the table, "he ghetto too!"

"AND PROUD OF IT!" cheered Frodo, "I'm TRILL! I stay TRUE to these Shire streets! Ask any one of these rabbit  
ass bastards up in here, Frodo a killer! Frodo got STRIPES! When you say FRODO, niggas say HELL NO. Thats how  
it go! It's all about that F,R,O, to tha DO'!" he cheered, pointing towards the tavern door.  
"Now cheers, you geriatric bitch!"

"W-w-well..." continued the second eldest at the table, "It's none of our business what happens outside the  
shire. So...y'know...fuck 'em. Don't fuck with them niggas over there, and them niggas won't fuck with you  
over here."

Frodo and Sam rise from the table to leave, both wobbling in their stances from the alchoholic consumption of  
the night. As they began wobbling to the door, the thick, chubby and reddish colored little female hobbit then  
scurried to the door to stand at it in a act of good fare wells. She stood a head taller than most of the males,  
but with hobbits there is little to no difference in size. Like many rodents, the difference was in the teeth  
of the sexes. And the scent, if one was blessed with the sensory ability to read such as they do.  
As the two came through the door, the hobbit waitress pressed her back against the rounded door and flashed her  
lovely little teeth in a huge grin of anticipation and flirtation.

"Goodnight, lads." she said in a cheery, high pitched voice, looking in Sam's direction particularly.

"Fuck damn..." muttered Frodo under his breath as he looked deep into her smile. "I love my people, but shhhit,  
rat toof bitches n' shit. Thirsty ass guinea pig hoes n' shit...I gotta get me a human woman...SHIT. I cain't  
be fuckin' with that bullshit..."

"Goodnight." replied Sam, standing as tall as he could, his ears moving forward like an attentive mouse, and his  
own smile spreading handsomely across his face.

"...this cinnamon roll mutherfuckah THIRSTY...thristy rat bitches n' shit...nah! Man, nah...I need some humans or  
elves or somethin'. Nuh uuhhhh!" muttered Frodo again, his eyes and his brow scrunching in disatisfaction.  
"You KNOW her pussy smell like cedar chips...NAH!"

As they staggered out together, a deeply intoxicated male hobbit approached the smiling young waitress, bowed  
forward still swaying from left to right and in the most sober voice he could muster, "Goodnight, sweet maiden  
of the Golden Ale!"

The waitress smiled a big, awkward smile and replied her good wishes to him, but before her proper thanks could  
be fully conveyed through verse, she was interrupted, to her hidden joy, by Samwise himself. Sam had spun around  
and begin to slowly walk back towards the tavern door.  
"MIND WHO YOU SWEET TALKIN', you old drunk fuck!"

"*NIGGA*?!" retorted the older hobbit in his drunken state. "You fat, frosting muthah fuckah! You look like a  
cinnamon bun with teef! WHATCHU GON DO BUT EAT MY LUNCH?!" yelled the older hobbit.

"...awwww shit. Niggas got turnt up...lemme get my fat ass inside before someone pops my implants..." thought  
the waitress to herself.

"SAM!" screamed Frodo, "TURN YO CHICKEN NUGGET ASS BACK 'ROUND! Rose knows a thirsty muh fuckah when she see  
one! She ain't fuckin wit him! LOOKIT HIM! He ain't worth a DAMN!"

"Shit." said the waitress as she slowly slid back into the tavern.

"YOU aint worth a damn, Frodo! Turn your Annabelle lookin' ass around! Go haunt somebody's rockin chair, you  
bug eyed fuck!"

"AW SHIT!" cried the waitress.

"Mouse nigga say what?" said Frodo, briskly walking up to the tavern, "MOUSE NIGGA SAY WHAT?! I'm FRODO! I'm  
the F...!

...to the R!

... to the O...!

...TO THA DO'!

I'm trill! I'm TRUE TO THIS SHIRE SHIT, NIGGA!"

"AWW HHEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL SHYEAH!" cried Sam.

"THESE NIGGAS DONT KNOW, SAM!"

"THEY SHO *DONT*!" cried Sam.

"I SAID THESE NIGGAS DONT KNOW, SAM!"

"TEACH 'EM!"

"TEACH EM?!"

"PREACH 'EM!"

"A'ight Deacon SAM, PASTOR IS HEEEYYYYUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRHHH! I'm the F, R, O! ..."

"TO THA DO'!" screamed Sam.

"To tha do'. I LET ALL THESE FAERY BITCHES KNOW! I'm not the first, but damn sho the best BAGGINS!  
I taught the god of sex about MACKIN'!"

"OHHH LAWD!" screamed Sam.

"I'm that rodent from the hill! Who aint 'fraid to kill! I keeps the wood, the bronze, the copper, AND THE STEEL!  
My momma converted at the moment of my birff...the day I dropped from her ass, everyone was scared, even  
the Middle Earff!  
I'm the beast from the East, I'm the king of the SHIRE! I jumped in the volcano and gave 3rd degree burns to  
Mount Doom's FIRE!  
I'm a boss, I'm a beast, from one look can't chu FIGURE?! I got Denzel shook when I got in his car and said  
'My NIGGAH'."

Samwise fell to the ground and thus began rolling through the grass, as if a seizure had overtaken him.

"PREACH!" screamed the waitress.

"I WALKED UP TO THE MISTY MOUNTAINS AND SAID "WHATCHU GONNA DO?!" They said 'We gonna part, Mr. Baggins,  
and let yo BAAAAAAAD Ass through.  
I walked up to the elf queen and said "BITCH, Get Crunk!", I spit in a dwarf's mug and tha mutha fuckah died  
drunk!  
I walked up to a mountain range, and a nigga was tipsy! I looked the mountains dead in the eye, said 'you ugly'  
and ever since the bitch kept crying and turned MISTY.  
I walked up to Morgoth and spanked his ass, FINISH FOR ME SAM!"

And Samwise said,  
"He can look up a orc's ass, and give you the price for next year's Christmas ham!  
Now Im Gangee Tha King, know me as SAM! I'm hot as Pitt, I'm sharp as a thistle...  
My name isnt short for Samwise, it's short for Surface to Air Missle!  
If you too ignant to unnerstand, That is S.A.M.! I told the sun to turn out that light, and a eclipse  
happened just for me to read in the DIM!  
I slapped wargs, I choked goblins, I fucked orcs in the ass! I took Wormtoungue's crystal ball and used it  
for my Kool-Aid glass!"

By this time, the other hobbits had retired inside the tavern, leaving to two to 'preaching' their rapping  
and tapping outside in the night. All except for the waitress, as she stood in the door smiling, stomping  
her foot, screaming "testify!" and throwing her hands up in the air while her head sunk low to the ground in pure, unadulterated  
ratchetness.


	6. Chapter 6

Later that night, Frodo staggered into his doorwar. He threw up his strawberry vodka and 'That Good' juice  
on the front porch. As he stumbled into his door, he noticed the door was opened. There seems to be no sign of life,  
but a hand descends on his shoulder from behind. Frodo jumps, gasps and turns. It is Gandalf. He looks wild and  
dishevelled. His hair unkempt and shaken, his eyes wide with fear and his breath in rapid, loud rasps.

"IS IT SECRET?! IS IT SAFE?!" he cries at Frodo.

A small hairy hand whips across Gandalf's face with the sound of bologne falling on top of a plastic counter.  
"YOU IGNANT, DISRESPECTFUL MUH FUCK!" drunkenly stammers Frodo, "You gonna just roll yo big, Swiffer Sweeper  
lookin ass all up in my shit?! GRABBIN ON ME! Muhfuckah, you done KNOCKED DOWN my shit, papers flappin n' shit,  
my community college class work all in the grass n' shit! I may be little, but I'll bite the SHIT outta you!  
I got some big ol' rat teef too, nigga! I ain't shamed to bite! I aint gon run on no wheel or shit in some  
cedar, but I'll bite a nigga finga in a minute! MUH FUCKUH ILL BITE CHA! I'mma...lemme...!"

And with that, Frodo angrily and furiously snatched up a wooden block and begin chewing on it rapidly in a  
blind rage while glaring Gandalf in the eye.

"IMMA GET 'EM SHARP *FIRST*, THEN IMMA BITE! I'MMA BITE THE SHI-"

A huge hand slapped the block from Frodo's cheek.

"NEH GET THAH RING!"

Frodo angrily staggered to a chest in the hallway and rummages through it, tossing out scrolls and other  
items in the process. He finds the sealed envelope he left there.  
"Nigga high and crazy up in MY hahss. MY HAHSS! TOLD you 'bout drankin wine with tramadol! I TOL' YOU!"

"SHUHFUKUP! Drunk ass gerbil! SHUP!"

Frodo angrily hands Gandalf the envelope containing the ring. Gandalf rapidly snatches the envelope from  
Frodo as if it was a burning coal, ever wanting to rid his hand of it, and he throws it into the fireplace,  
where the flames begin to eat the envelope.

"Ohhh the fuck he didn't just...WOOOOH!" cried Frodo.

Frodo jumped at Gandalf snapping his large incisors, to which Gandalf deftly dodged the bite. At this, Gandalf  
snatched off his long, black belt. His lips pulled in over his teeth, but his eyebrows went high and his eyes  
bulged in anger.

"Wooooooo! Uuunnhhh huh! !Eres tonta perdida eres un paleto, no tienes dos dedos de frente, que pringada eres, está  
hecho una foca, eres más fea que pegarle a una madre con un calcetín sucio!" cried Gandalf.

"...the fu-" uttered Frodo, before the belt came down across his soft, pink buttocks mashed ever so neatly  
in his pants.

And down went Frodo and Gandalf through the house, the screams of 'no' and the rage of 1,000 ratchet spanish  
mommas.

Yet, there truly was something more in the little hobbit of Baggins. For, his heart was great within the frame  
so small. And thus...

...Frodo did grab the belt...

And the FURY of a trailer park single mother on Christmas morning, burned within Gandalf's chest.

...and the belt hath bit it's wrath into that ass...

...the walls, now smeared with shit, witnessed the hoary hate of a hair-hatted ho...within the  
Big Dolf.

And it was in the days to come that knowledge of the peril of the One  
Pair had circulated amongst only the most noble of the races of the alliance.

No brown, black, red, or yellow allowed.

Take your fried chicken, tacos, firewater, egg rolls, and Islam somewhere else.

Fuck Obama.

Zeig Heil, Tea Party! Bush! Bush! Bush! Bush! Bush! Bush! Bush! Bush! 4 more years!  
4 more years! 4 more years!

And it was in the days to come that many of the races of Middle Earth opposing the one  
ring and the dark forces of Mordor gathered. The Dwarves, The Elves, mankind and the two hobbits  
Gandalf brought from the Shire. Within the Elvish lands, in the Kingdom of Elves they convened  
together, arguing and boisterous amongst themselves til Gandalf the Grey walked amongst the very  
midst of them and shouted "SIlence! Now, let us greet each other properly!" So, Gimli, prince of  
the Dwarves approached Legolas of the Elves. They dapped each other, "'Sup Lil' Rock" Legolas  
muttered.  
"All good, my nig. Y'know. How ya momma nem, Trigga?"  
"They good." replied Legolas.  
Then a elf mistress brought out hotwings and beer in the finest bowls and mugs made from Elvish  
wood. "Aw SHIT! Time a nigga eat!" screamed Aragorn, his voice echoing through the evlish  
structures, being the first to dive into the finely woven bowel  
of hotwings, the breading deep fried to a crispy, crunchy chaotic surfaced crust. Within that very  
crust laid dozens of particles of various spices, native only to the magic infused soil of the  
Elvish highlands. Only the deft, smooth century years old fingers of a fine elvish maiden could  
devise such a crust, like no man or beast ever saw. Aragorn was the first of the council to taste  
of the fine, hot flesh of the Moon Dream Hasgryff, a native Elvish bird that flies upon the winds  
of the Misty Mountains and down through the forests, only once per every thousand years. "AWWWWW  
shit, nigga! Y'all niggas better dig in, or y'all niggas aint gon eat. I dont give a fuck!"  
cried Aragorn, his chest heaving with passion, his eyes reddened by the inner fury and rage of  
the requirement to share, heaped upon the heat of the herbs, spices, fruits, seeds, and magics  
heating the oven of his mouth from the skin of the fine, fresh fried flesh. "Damn, bitch fine as  
hell." muttered Gandalf as the elvish maiden walked away, her long, flowing weave shone like the  
brightest sunlight with the hue of young apples, reddish with a shade of pink. "Nigga, you thirsty  
as fuck." replied Aragorn. It was at that moment that Gandalf turned rapidly in a motion so fast  
that the winds ripped through the tower. The merry broke to a still and the silence was deafening.  
Nothing appealed to one's perceptioin but Gandalf and Aragorn within that moment. "Nigga, the fuck  
you say, nigga?!" flew from Gandalf's beard and seemed to echo and reverberate throughout the  
every empty space of the tower. "...C'mon man. I wasn't, look, Big Dolf, I didn-" but Aragorn was  
cut off. "NIGGA, THE FUCK YOU SAY?! You CALL A NIGGA THIRSTY?!" The deafening roar seemed to increase,  
akin to the waves that crashed upon the shores of Ephondor, drowning out even the roars of a long  
dead volcano, crying to be heard as it had millions of years ago. "I'm MAGIC, NIGGA! I'm a magic  
nigga! I'm muh fuckin BIG DOLF, muh fucka! I'll turn yo raggedy, rusty-ass dollar store chainmail  
wearin', no beard washin muh-fuckin' ass into a TOAD, NIGGA! I'll sell you to PetSMart NIGGA!"  
Gandalf's rage, seemed to be growing, from a bottomless pit of power that none had conceived dwelt  
within the mere frame that walked the soil of the land before their eyes. "I ain't steppin' Dolf,  
I'm sorry nigga. C'mon, everybody know Big Dolf THAT nigga, okay? I ain-" stammered Aragorn, but  
the interjection continued, electric sparks of pure mystic energy unlike any seen in eons sparked  
from the eyes of the grey wizard, his height and presence seemingly ever growing, his shadow heated  
and his voice echoing like the caverns of Gormadeth. "ON MY MOMMA, NIGGA! I'll put a lightining bolt  
up that pasty hairy ass, nigga! I'm Big Dolf, nigga! Lil' Taste know!" Frodo shook his head in response  
to the wizards claim, his expression filled with lack of surprise and confidence. "Niggas can't rock  
with the Big Dolf. You ain't nare nutter magic, nigga. Best walk on or get drilled, nigga." Frodo's  
chin rose up higher than his nose, his head tilted back and his eyes cast down to make even contact  
with the sitting warrior.  
Far into the deep valleys of Mordor, the sky lay black with ash and soot. In Mount Doom lay  
the blackness that cast the world into fear. The name none uttered without very trepidation and  
intimidation. Sauron. The coal black metal figure sat upon a throne, the cold and black formation  
not quite bones, and yet not quite rock. Boiling lava spewed forth slowly as if pus from a wound from  
the very cracks between the "bones" of the throne. "That's my ring. A nigga took out loans and shit.  
I made that ring. I DID. And little ass nigga got it. With Big Dolf's bitch ass. Fuck Big Dolf. Fuck  
these niggas, nig-" but amidst the blackest incantations the shadow uttered amongst itself, a filth  
ridden pig-like beast in the shape of a man scrambled into the room. "Ay yo! We found that ring n'  
shit, Black! For real, Black!" cried the Orc chieftain to his master. The red eyes glowed brighter  
than the blinding lava in the room. "Niggas gonna get rocked..." uttered from the black mask.

The Fellowship trek had stretched on for days. Through the grim, grey Misty Mountains they trekked  
towards the centuries old city of Mazarbul. It was there Gimli had promised they'd find Balin, a  
close ally of his, a king, and governor of the source of fine dwarven metals. But once entering the  
gateway, all they had found was darkness. Darkness, quietness, stillness. The only sign of mere action  
was the microscopic touches of the air, the water and the wind cutting the edges of the finely carved  
stone furnishings, molecule a day by molecule a day. The wizard had suspected he would find change in  
the millenia he had not made an appearance to Moria, but not this drastic. Not such hopelessness and  
death. As the eyes graced the meeting hall of Balin, now a tomb laid still for centuries, the gruff  
little dwarf was the first among them to voice his thundering waterfall of thoughts. "...chicken bones  
n' shit. I mean, lookit this shit. A nigga died and these muh-fuckas...th-th-they didnt just...man  
they left chicken bones on the ground n' shit! Dusty ass chicken bones! Sweet Baby Ragolmor's Sauce  
all dried up n' shit! I mean, the man died! You dont be throwin chicken bones in tombs n' shit! Nah!"  
The wizard broke in on the grim gruff voice, "300 years ago, lil' nigga went ham with me, we was  
splashing wine n' shit on dwarf titties n' shit. They was just sendin him off, Lil' Rock." Gandalf  
interjected, gently soothing the broken heart of the dwarf prince. Frodo's bright blue eyes, accustomed  
to only the bright shine of the Shire struggled to make witness of the cause of the stirs of emotion.  
"Three hundred?! Uncle B told me y'all old, but yall old as fuck! I bet they looked good back th-"  
but before the little sprite could finish, the ruffled disposition of the dwarf was soon made known to  
all nearby. "FUCK YOU MEAN 'BACK THEN'?! You hair-brush footed nigga, them hoes STILL lookin good,  
yo! 20, 50, 100 years dont mean SHIT to the Dwarf clique! I been lookin like this since way back befo  
Bilbo ever, ever, EEEVVVEEEEERRR became a O.G., nigga!" Gandalf let out a smile and joined the state  
of the conversation "Maaaan, them bitches look RIGHT nigga! You was there, you little red hairy muh  
fuckah! R-r-r-member when I had my beard between-" but before the wizard could even inhale his next  
breath, the dwarf interrupted merrily "BETWEEN THAT BITCHES BUTTCHEEKS! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!  
HELL YEAH, them niggas was bbqin! Even that nigga with tha keepa on had them kosher links, hoes in  
his lap. Nigga damn near forgot his axe, nigga!" Gandalf returned the joyful noise, "Woooo shit,  
man, that mithril weave had a nigg hypnotized, ya hurr?! I was gonna do some o that ol magic shit  
for yall raggedy rock asses, but when Lil' Daffeldoriqua went past, I said NAW! A wizza said NAWWW!"  
Both the wizard and the dwarf extended one hand towards each other, colliding palms ending in a loud  
clap, and the strong inhuman arms pulling one-another in for a hug and another dap. A true physical  
sign of joyful agreement.  
Even amongst the dark, dusty despair laughter was still the treasure found amongst friends  
and fellows of the same cause. "Shit. I'd love a crack at them hos. F'real." calmly spoke up the elf.  
"Awwwwwwwwwwww shit!" uttered the hobbit. "Pretty nigga say wha? PRETTY NIGGA SAY WHA?!" uttered  
the dwarf limping towards the elf, his axe swinging low and his other hand held up like the broken  
foot of a dog. "Fuck you gotta say, Rock? Hatin ass dwarf. Urrbody in this bitch know, Legolas pimp  
hard. Ho's love a pretty nigga, nigga. So quit hating, Rock." "Rock aint hatin! But aint no dwarf  
bitch ride with no pretty ass nigga! On my momma, dawg, them hoes love a MAN with a beard! Lookit  
my shit, braided n shit! I went to them hoes at the salon, they got my shit lookin RIGHT! Im fresher  
than a towel out the drier, lookit my shit! Lookit these braide bracelets! 14 K muh fuckah. All  
you got is some leaves n shit. Some ol broke ass deer skin from Sam's Club or some shit, fuck on bruh."  
The elf's deep brown eyes narrowed in disgust. "Hoes love this hair, you little bitch ass nugget.  
This is REAL Pegasus Wing hair, straight from Top Earth! $15,300 and 93 cent! Lookit it shinein,  
See my shine? That's real Giant Eagle oil, fresh from the tap, nigga, f'real. My shit look right,  
these boots, see the kicks nigga?! Look at the kicks, nigga. REAL Ent skin, and he dont just peel  
his shit off for nobody, you gots ta know a nigga. And I know a nigga, for 169 years too! Watchu  
got? Huh? Some rocks and braids and shit. Cave man neanderthal duck dynasty lookin muthah fuckah  
better git the fuck on. Ol' hatin ass." Aragorn's smile appeared in the dark, a shine of charm  
and humor in the human's eyes. "Both yall thirsty as fuck." "WHAT DID I TELL YOU BOUT THAT THIRSTY  
SHIT, B?!" said Gandalf, his eyes brightening the room and his beard wavering in a wind with no  
Earthly source.  
But at that moment, the heirloom resting within Frodo's hand begun to sing, a low vibration  
that could only be heard by the hobbit's hand, the elf's ears, and the wizards spirit. The fellowship  
hunkered down gently within the recesses of the tomb, every tendon tense to the strength of iron.  
Their eyes darting rapidly, their mouths dry. Only the leather of the gloves embracing the handles  
of iron and steel blades creaking tightly could be heard. The ears strained to hear what the sword  
cried only through light what was approaching: the black forces of Sauron. The gristly little voices  
of goblins could be heard in the distance, and bitter comprehension flew to Gimli as to what had  
happened to Balin.  
The troop of Goblins, their greasy little green bodies and black bent iron armor clanging,  
scuddled and climbed deftly over the ruins towards the sounds. Little red eyes darted and crude  
iron blades in the form of large broken shards of glass shined in preparation. "Somebody said  
"REAL Pegasus Hair, y'all! My baby momma gonna come back if I get some Pegasus hair yall!" cried  
Stabgor. "That bitch aint worth 2 smashed flies. You met her at Taco Bell and after yall texting,  
she say she pregnant. You stupid." replied Dethblow. "I-I-I know, but look. Thats still my seed,  
dawg, and fo-" stammed Stabgor but the reply broke his rebuttal apart. "That little peanut headed  
nigga human, dawg. You a goblin. She a troll. C'mon, fool." A giant whip of fire was released from  
it's lava handle as a deep voice like rock scraping against rock echoed from behind, "I dun curr  
about none a y'all. I smell new shoes, wizard got on them 2015 Febuary Jordans. I'mma take all his  
shit."

"Balrog, you always stealin niggas shoes! Yo baby momma say she pregnant and need diapers"cried the goblin.

"Fuck yall, Aint mine. Im gonna have them shoes." uttered the demon.


	7. Chapter 7

The city of Isengard was once akin to a beautiful flower, flowering open amongst the forests  
and scenic land. But the forces of Sauron had taken the land over, the once white stone structures  
lay gray, stained with soot, ash and metal shards. The sky was heavily pregnant with smoke from  
smiths and charcoal pits, heavy and metallic to any who merely stick their tongue out in the open.  
The once beautiful white stones, now lay black and consistently hydrated with whatever waters lie  
in bodily fluids. It was here, that the great wizard Saruman, chose to make his base, and puppeteer  
the orcish hordes as instruments of Sauron's will. The great dark wizard, clad in long flowing white  
hair to his calves, and his beard down to his belly, mediated with the mind of the evil shadow in  
the top of the tower of Isengard, penetrating through the smoke into what was left of the clear,  
pristine air of Middle Earth. His long, white nails worked through the air, manipulating energies  
unseen to the eye, but blinding to the flesh. And the words that inundated from his mouth not only  
echoed through the empty chamber, but reached the concept of the black shadow, who responded his  
will. Saruman, upon his knees, his white energy echoing forth from his form reaching out to the black  
throne, called forth. "Oh great lord Sauron, what more is your will? For I have done all you have  
asked of me. Your armies stand prepared for your next action."  
The sounds of the empty air in the chamber began to slowly hiss like wind, and that hissing wind  
began to form pounding, coalesced words that sent chills up the spines of all within mere range of  
the tower. "Nigga WHATCHU WANT?! Why you bug...oh. Shyeah. Um, Yeah, that's whats up. Ummm, look,  
you got some big niggas? I mean big ass, sasquatch gorilla-knuckle muh-fuckahs. I mean, y'all true.  
But y'all kinda...y'all kinda little. Look man, Saruman, much love homey, but I gots to be real.  
Y'all some dumb, raggedy muh fuckas. Real talk. See, I shouldnt be havin' to tell y'all what to do  
and all. I mean, today the Sabbath too. I aint sposed to be doin no long distance."  
The wizard responded to the evil, wise words that embraced the top of the tower chambers.  
"But lord Mairon, O Annatar, great Artano, today is Saturday. You are not one of the Jewish faith."  
The hissing responded, slowly;  
"... LOOK! Why you always trynna argue with me?! Nigga, IM SAURON!  
I'm a BOSS! I'm a BOSS ON BEAST MODE! BOSS MODE!"  
"Forgive me, great black lord."  
"Nigga, I aint BLACK! I'm...shit. I dont know. BUT LOOK, my momma made things bad  
enough naming me that ghetto shit, 'MAIRON'. See, you know. You know that ratchet ass shit she  
named me. Mairon Annatar Artano Jeinkins... You know what I went through on job interviews with  
that name?! HUH?! Nah! I changed that shit! Don't be callin' me by that ghetto ass shit no  
more either! Nigga, I'm a gentleman! I talks good and interrogate-shoo-al and all that smart shit!  
I changed my shit to just 'SAURON'. So, on all my shit, it just say 'SAURON'. See, the shit work out  
right. See, I went...see-see-see, I went to that office thang, I had on all my armor and shit too,  
so they know who they dealing with. Ain't no small timers here, bruh. So I walked up, professional  
on 'em. And I was like "Ay mama, lemme change my name, my lady. Fo' real, my-damn." See, gentleman  
on 'em. So I changed my shit to "SAURON". See I kept the Ron, cuz most my niggas know me by Ron, and  
Ron like...like a quiz bowl nigga from, like Lansing Michigan or some shit. And then, I said, wait  
hold up. Ron too plain. I'mma a beast and a boss. So, I put the Saur on there, like a dinosaur, see?!  
Like a muh fucking tyrannosaurus on that ass. She tried to roll her eyes at me, that lil seniorita at  
the DMV, but I know she was likin this. ...she was fine too, with them purple sweat pants on. Damn!  
I'mma send my eyeball over there later, get them digits. And ain't no contacts either, see the red,  
this real! This genetic! I got like...the...the...the Red Eyed Tribe of...of warriors in my family.  
But anyway see, see, see, I got that dinosaur shit on there, so when people see my name, they all  
like 'Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww daaaaaaaaaamnnn, he a dinosaur boss. He a professional boss big time.'"  
The white wizard's eyes shifted inside his closed lids, awkwardly and confused; "I will remember,  
lord SAURON. But tell me, what shall we do next, dark lord?"  
"...huh? Oh! Right. Umm... get me some big ass, protein shake  
drinkin muh fuckas. Not them little snap-pea headed ass raggedy fools you got now. I mean, they  
true, but still, they aint big time like me. I'm...I'mma boss. Rest a' y'all dumb as fuck. I'm  
the smartest one in this shit. See, lookit this right'chere."  
The blackness that appeared before the wizard's eyes in his closed lids began to shift, and the cool  
damp air of the chamber changed to dry, hot, smokey and filled with the sound of bubbling lava. He  
knew his very soul had been pulled into the dark lord's chamber, merely by the shadow's own will.  
A great massive figure positioned upon a throne of what appeared to be bones slowly turned into ebony  
and obsidian oozing molten stone. Between the great, thorned obsidian boots lay a small, flattened  
case of a flimsy, plastic-like material, and upon the case did the words "Call Of Booty: For Adults  
Only" stay etched, right below the smaller words spelling out "Only For Z-Box." The great blackened  
figure with red eyes illuminating the hellish space with a red unearthly light then positioned his  
great clawed hand to the upper right of the cave walls behind him. And where the great, clawed hand  
pointed there lay, upon the surface of the smooth black rock, a plastic plaque holding a sheet of  
printed out computer paper. And upon the paper lay in Times New Roman font, a accredited online  
college degree in family services, accredited to Sauron.  
"Lookit that shit. See, I aint lying. I'm a college congratulate, see. I earned that!", echoed from  
the great thorned figure.  
The wizard felt as if his very soul was thrown like a ball back into the flesh cage that was his  
body, and his very wisdom knew he had been placed back, merely by the dark lord's will and hand.  
"Tis... amazing, dark lord. May I inquire, did you manipulate your nephew with your great will  
to create all the works accredited to that shee...I mean, degree, my lord?"  
"... Whatchu mean?"  
"I'm merely asking, oh great lord, was your mind in control of your nephew's flesh and blood? Since  
I was witness, black lord, that your nephew wrote all your papers and took all your exams for you?  
It must have been you, O Sauron, who controlled his mind. Because otherwise, that would mean that  
your nephew is the one who earned that degree, since he was the one who finished all your classes  
for you."  
A silence fell across the great chamber.  
"... FUCK MICHEAL! NIGGA, I'M SAURON! J-j-j-just cuz the lil'  
nigga typed all my papers dont mean shit! FUCK HIM! Smart ass, historian ass, read-a-book ass nigga.  
Lemme ask you something! Can my nephew kick my ass, tho?!"  
"...I doubt it, dark lord, in spite that he is 9 feet tall, compared to your sev-"  
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! Talk TOO DAMN MUCH! I KNOW WHATCHU GON' SAY TOO! AND YEAH, I GOT THAT  
PLAQUE AT THE DOLLAH STO' FOR $1.29, SO THE FUCK WHAT?! SMARTY ART NIGGA, WHAT?! AND WHAT?!  
AND WHAT?! SAY SOMTHIN'! I'LL TELE...telagr... FUUUCK! I'll GHOSTESSES OVER THERE AND  
SLAP YOU IN THE FOREHEAD!"  
The wizard fell silent and lowered his head in complete submission, the black shadow of the evil  
lord hovering in the vaulted spaces of chamber ceiling.  
"...G-G-G-G-GET SOME BIG UGLY BEAR-LOOKIN ORCS and SHIT! FUCK YOU! AN-AN-AND FUCK MICHEAL  
TOO! ... FUCK A BOOK!"  
The words that echoed in the chamber began to disintegrate into mere whispers, trailing off into  
the echos of the winds that slid along the stone.  
"...i'll choke the magic outta you...gon' tell ME, you cant tell me nuffin'...slap  
you into a window...nigga, I'm Sauron..."  
And with that last echo of grim wisdom from the shadow lord Sauron, the great dark shadow completely  
withdrew from all of Isengard.  
The wizard Saruman went through great strides and finally brought his master's will to be a  
reality. The twisted and gnarled flesh of the mutated and perversed elvish blood that became the  
orc, was re-harnessed, and twisted with a almost harmonic brilliance to become a new being to  
blacken the world of the races of Middle Earth. The Uruk-Hai was born.  
Massive orcs, with the noses of boars and tusks so large that they ran from out of their lips and  
down their chins or up their snouts, sometimes punching through the very flesh of their faces.  
Their bodies brimmed with muscle, and the hooves on each of their fingers and toes were razor sharp  
and dense as Dunedaine steel. A chamber, pervese and evil, putrid and foul, birthed these beasts  
already adult and intelligent as schooled men, wisened in the ways of war and the will of the black  
shadow. The wizard, the only image of symmetry and health pacing the pits, oversaw every single mere  
second of evolution and development of each one, manipulating with magics whatever did not fit the  
will of his master, until it did. On the eve of the last birthing, the beasts were armored in fine,  
black iron, and herded to hear the wizard before their hunt for the Fellowship. The great wizard  
stood upon a balcony, all the red eyes upon him with full attention.  
"The great lord, our master, has been thieved! The Fellowship, a mere handful of men, a dwarf, a  
elf, and some halflings have taken what is rightfully his! They seek to stop the land from falling  
under his shadow!" The armies raged in fanatic fury.  
"Go now! Take back what is his! For tonight, we will feast upon man flesh!"  
The beastly green army of monstrosities howled and roared in hungry anticipation, their gluttony  
akin to that of a dog's smelling fine steak. The wizard's hands raised, and hunger and anticipation  
fueled within the beasts in rage and excitement.  
"Tonight we will dine upon them! TONIGHT, MAN FLESH will be DEEP in our mouths! We will SWALLOW  
them! EVERY ONE OF THEM! They will be stripped before US, and their flesh will SLIDE DOWN OUR  
THROATS! OUR MOUTHS...WILL MEET THEIR STRONG, supple...bearded lips, embraced in poses...akin  
...to like what I draw...on...my art...profile..." cried the wizard, his long hair heradling like  
a great white flag in the wind, his long white nails illuminated by the moon's light.  
But in that very fervorous shout, the army began to quiet, and the roars died to mumbles.  
"...ese, what he say?" whispered a berserker. The great giant among them, Lurtz, slowly twisted  
his great, huge head to those around him, his deep guttural voice in a rasping whisper,  
"This chica sweet! I TOLD y'all this chica sweet. Lookit him! Long hair and press on nails n' shit!  
He was rubbin all up on me n' shit too...I ain't...I mean, I'll eat a nigga in a minute, cook him  
wit some rice too. You get some season salt, put some tortillas with a lil butter and salt in the pan  
for a lil bit, mmm MMMMMMMMM! But...I ain't...I ain't gettin' nekkid wit...nah."  
The wizard's fervor intensified like a furnace, mystic energies leaping from his chest upwards to  
spark out of his clawed hands, "THE MAN FLESH WILL GO DEEP AND BE FEASTED UPON! ALL OF THEIR ESSENCE  
WILL TRAVEL DEEP DOWN OUR THRO-", but his call was cut off by a great howl from deep within the army,  
the great leader of the Uruk-Hai, Lurtz, cried in a volume unseen in Isengard. "YEAAAHHH! ALL THAT  
SHIT! LET'S RIDE ON THEM MUH FUCKAZ, WE GON' DO WORK! VAMADOS!" and with that not only was the  
wizard's call cut off, but the army rode out rapidly, in a quick direction out of Isengard. The wizard  
glared out at the galloping army of boar-like beasts, his eyes slitting, and his mouth whispering  
before he retired to his chamber. "...bitch. Oh no, he didn't. Nuh uh." Saruman placed one hand upon  
his hip, twisted his other high into the air, and with a hip swishing motion of grace, he walked upon  
his tip toes in mithril heels back to his chambers.

The Fellowship of the ring, was heading through the great forest towards the mountains of Mordor.  
The comrades in arms included Aragorn, a Dunedaine ranger who had forgotten of his royal bloodline.  
Boromir, Son and heir of Denethor II, Steward of Gondor. The elf Legolas, Son of Thranduil, king of  
the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood, most formidable dodger of DCFS letters. Gimli, Son of Gloin, warruir  
prince of the Dwarven race. Frodo Baggins, the bearer of the one ring and Shire born Hobbit, along  
with his fellow Hobbits, Samwise Gangee, Merry, and Pippin. And leading the party was Gandalf the  
Grey, a most formidable wizard, and avid despiser of the word 'thirsty'. They had trekked very long  
and very weary did they stop, resting upon the forested hill of Amon Hen.  
The first to speak up was Boromir, "All this bullshit over some shine. Can't we just buy the big  
nigga a ring from Claire's and call it a day? Shit." The weary party began to make a small fire  
and open their rations, given to them by Galadriel, Queen of the Elves. She gave each of them a  
blessed sachel, wrapped in the blue elvish leaves, of a special elven delicacy that would them  
and fill their hunger, and restore their strength to aid them in their quest to the mountains of  
Mordor. As they sat down and began to open the sachels given to each, Aragorn exclaimed his  
gratitude to restore his strength with such a fine elven gift, "Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww  
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww SSHHIITTT! TIME A NIGGA EAT!" cried the ranger,  
his voice echoing across the tree tops.  
"What the fuck is this?!" called Boromir in a angry disappointment. "This! ...This shit ain't nothin  
but grilled cheese sammiches with cut up hot dogs in it! HOLD UP! We went all the way to big  
boss elf bitch's house, and she talkin she gon give us some magic elvish bread or some shit! All  
the big blonde headed bitch did was go in the back and cook some grill cheeses with HOT DOGS CUT  
UP IN IT!"  
The angry warrior bit into his rations.  
"THESE AINT EVEN THE GOOD HOTDOGS! THIS SOME OL' VALUE SHIT FROM ALDI! ...I ain't gon; lie,  
it is good tho."  
In one graceful motion, the golden haired elf shrunk from a powerful standing position to one of  
sitting upon the ground, not one crease or change in his armor or person, his ears and eyes ever  
watchful like a deer, as he gracefully and gently looked down at his rations with a disappointing  
stare, "I cain't eat that, man. These value hotdogs ain't Halal."  
"THE FUCK?!" cried Boromir, "HOW A ELF GON' BE MUSLIM?!"  
"Cuz I am."  
"You ain't no Muslim, nigga! You don't pray 5 times a day, you cuss and look up asses all the  
damn time, SHITT! Why am I even...you a ELF!"  
"So."  
"Nigga, fuck you. And fuck yo grilled cheese slangin queen too. ...Lembas bread my ass, this some  
ol' shit she cooked with bacon grease in the back of her shit. Lyin ass, yella weave headed ass..."  
and Boromir continued to murmur his distaste while hunger pushed him to take part of his rations.  
The elf gently and deftly picked through his carryings to find food stuffs he carried with him,  
gently and immaculately dining upon what he had on his person, not spilling anything or showing  
one instance of a lack of balance.  
At this display of grace, the gruff little Dwarf spoke up. "Nigga, wouldchu STOP! Ain't no hoes  
out here! Why you always trynna shine so damn hard?!"  
"Gimli, you a hatin' ass bitch. ALWAYS hatin'. Raggedy rock ass bastard. F'Real."  
"I aint hatin! I'm just sayin, urrbody stanky, musty, sweaty out here in the rockdamn woods.  
We all prob smell like underarm, cheeseburger and doodoo. And aint bitch one to be seen, and  
you still, you STILL trynna stunt."  
"I'm sick ah this. Let's put this to rest, man. Look, you jealous. I'm shinin! Lookit me shine!"  
"Only thing shinin about yo deer-lookin ass is yo forehead, nigga. All that stringy blonde shit  
all wet and musty, I'm a dwarf, I can SMELL yo shit! Yo blonde head smell like baked head in a  
car full of cheetohs! Aint nare nutter ho gonna fuck with that."  
"We all musty, aight? F'Real, WE ALL MUSTY right now! Kay?! Butchu know what? You hatin'! You a  
hatin jealous bitch, Rock. F'Real. Lookit my shit! My shit straight, my shit blonde, my shit jus  
shinin! My head look like Gucci curtains! And whatchu got? HUH?! WHATCHU GOT?! You got a rusty  
dusty ass mop on yo face, and a WATERFALL of NAPS down yo back! You heard me, that shits nothin  
but a red carpet of naps! You could execute a flock ah birds by hanging just wit yo head."  
"ALL YALL MUSTY. But me. I'm still fine." spoke up the wizard.  
"No hate, Big Dolf, but your clothes look kinda raggedy. Like you found them behind the dollar  
store dumpster, man. I'm jus sayin'." uttered Frodo, the little hobbit.  
"HAIR-BRUSH FOOT NIGGA, MY SHIT VINTAGE! This vintage! What you know about vintage?! Huh?!  
You caint even spell that word." retorted the grey wizard.  
Resting his sword in it's scabbard against a tree, Boromir rested, and riddled the wizard on a  
situation that had ate at him, ever since the fellowship first met.  
"Big Dolf, why all this over a ring, man? Can't we just bury the shit?"  
A grim hush fell over the camp, and the wizards bright blue eyes slightly clouded into a gray  
shade, as his mouth began to speak upon the reason for their difficult quest.  
"No man can destroy the one ring. It must be melted where it was forged, in the fires of Mount Doom.  
But the destruction of the ring at Mount Doom is not the sole reason for this endeavor...you  
see, sword of Gondor, tha-"  
"WHY YOU TALKIN LIKE THAT!" interrupted Aragorn. "We ALLLLL know you took yo raggedy gray ass  
to community college, a'ight?! You know damned good and well you ignorant as hell, and you nasty  
too! All them peek-a-boo shits on your phone! Dwarf titties, human asses, shit! I aint gonna lie,  
I got that too, but still!"  
"FINE! ...ignorant ass bastards... Look! Sauron made this ring from his momma's old jewelry,  
alright? For some reason, he needs it to look good and some other shit, I dont know. But here's the  
thing! See, IN Mount Doom, he forged something else! And he shrunk 'em, magically, then when he  
melted his momma old jewelry down, he hid it in the ring, and if he gets the ring, he gonna melt  
the ring, and get them back!"  
"Get what back, Big Dolf?!" questioned Samwise in a slight panick.  
"You fat porkchop lookin bastard, your cheeks look like they salty! Lookitchu! Always eatin up  
shit! That's why you always BOOBOOin'! Every mutha damn 20 mins, you gotta hike yo big footed  
ass up and drop a shit! I dont know how Frodo deal with you! I cant stand yo ass. You like a big,  
white, pink bag just full of dookie. You muffin faced, greasy, mashed potatoes in a bowl headed mo-"  
"Gandalf, PLEASE!" cried Frodo.  
"Fine. Okay, see, in Mount Doom, right? Sauron got the newest, freshest pair of Jordans made. Not out  
but MADE. They are never 'sposed to come out. Ever."  
A singular sound uttered from the entire camp, "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmnnnnnnn..."  
Gandalf continued, "Yeah. But it gets better. So, he also got the freshest, finest pair of Gucci  
Bathin' Apes. I mean this pair so fine, so fresh, they took it off the market because niggas was  
gettin raped to death by bitches."  
"Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww SHIT!" screamed Aragorn.  
"Aragorn, calm your Dookie-Damn ass down. Screamin all the hot damn time in my ear and shit. Shave  
yo shit. You look like your got your ass beat with a pepper shaker. Anyway, So he took them Gucci  
Bapes, took them Jordans, and in the magic lava of Mount Doom...HE MIXED 'EM INTO ONE  
PAIR!"  
The little dwarf dropped into a near catatonic state, and the elf began to bleed profusely from his  
nose. The hobbits began to shiver uncontrollably. Aragorn and Boromir both wretched upon the ground  
from the shock. The only one amongst them with composure stayed the wizard, his vast powers keeping  
him still from the realization of the great evil Sauron had forged.  
Frodo struggled to speak, "But, why has he kept them locked in the ring for so long?! Why has he not  
taken them out already?!"  
The wizard, his face grim and sullen, answered, "First be thankful he never did. Secondly, he planned  
to do so before the ring was seperated from his hand in the past wars. But mostly...I DONT KNOW!  
Shit, he's SAURON! You talkin' the same fool who got a AA in Family Services from a online college,  
and the piece of paper he printed his degree on got a coffee stain on it, and a coupon for 2 tacos  
for 1.78 on the back! IN A DOLLAR STORE PLAQUE. HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHY HE DOES A  
DAMN THING?!"  
A saddened hush slowly blanketed the camp. The grey wizard continued in a hushed tone.  
"That's why nobody can hold that ring. Anybody who holds it too long, they start to realize real real  
slow whats in that ring. And as they start to see that pair, they get crazy. Sick n' shit. Cuz they  
spend all damn day tryin to figure out how to get them shoes out and make em big enough to fit.  
See, if Sauron gets the ring, he's gonna take them shoes out and put them bitches ON his big, rusty,  
crusty ass feet. And that means whenever ANYBODY, has a BBQ, or a Cinco De Mayo, or Tail Gate, he's  
jus gonna slap them bitches on and step outside. All his ol ugly orcs n' shit gonna start grillin and  
puttin the game on, and every ho and G at your party just gonna be like, lookin at yo feet, and be  
like 'Nah' and go to his party. See, so this means, Sauron can have as many Cinco de Mayos, 4th o  
Julys, BBQs, Super Bowls, all dat shit, without ever...ever...having to buy one wing, call one  
hoe, or have no tickets. All he do is step outside in his kicks, annd whoever grillin gonna just up  
and take the music and all the good time to his house."  
The little dwarf, the toughest and hardest amongst them, began to weep intensely. The elven archer  
slowly gripped his chest in despair to still his heart and knotting insides. Only the little hobbit  
Pippin, found a voice to speak.  
"So...you mean, no matter how many wings you get, no matter how new or fresh yo Bathin Apes, Sauron  
gonna steal your hos?"  
"No, Pippin. He gonna steal the whole party. These Jordan Apes are evil. They must be destroyed. Or  
aint nobody gonna be able to look fresh and fly again."

In the first hints of light, the green and brown forest held a reflective, quiet beauty. Brown  
leaves with golden hints gleamed and rustled beneath large pines and their neighboring red and  
yellow changing deciduos brethren. The sound of the leaves lightly clashing against one another  
filled the forest with a quietly peaceful cacophony, barely salted with the sounds of avian song.  
Great, dilapidated white stone ruins of elvish signature had begun the transition from sentiently  
designed structures turn ruin, to mere stone features of the land. The elements, quietly sculpting  
the once finely carved pillars and castles into non-uniform stone aspects of the forest, returning  
the rock to a state before civilization touched it. Along these ruins, the Fellowship trekked to  
their destination. Armed in their finest accutrements, they appeared ready for conflict, yet the  
entire area blanketing all they perceived put them in peace. In the light of the prior night's  
revelation, the party lay still shaken to their cores. Each mind racing in it's own right, it's  
own native tongue rapidly questioning itself for answers it could not give.  
The warrior prince Gimli, in spite of his warful appearance and gruff attitude, was still prince,  
reared to be most sensitive to the plight of others, and like any true ruler or worth, always  
thought as a servant to those beneath him, not the other way around. The sensitive heart sitting  
in the large, muscular chest was soft, and in his pity and concern, he broke his silence to his  
elf compatriot to whom he had been adversarious. "Ay yo, Legolas, man, look. I ain't mean to be  
like that, man. I ain't hating. Just, last time I was at yo daddy house, he was kinda woman-like.  
But still, just...jus made me a lil' hateful and shit."  
"Cuz you is hateful. F'real."  
"PRETTY NIGGA, I SAID IM SORRY! Shit!"  
"Nah, it's good man. Much love, Rock. Nah, the elf King look like a woman, I ain't gon' lie.  
Trigga tell it like it is, f'real."  
"Wai-wai-wai-wait...HOLD UP! Elf king tran-sensual?!"  
"Naw. He a woman."  
"Wait! TRIGGA! Legolas. Elf nigga, how a nigga gon' be straight, but he likin dudes?!"  
The elf calmly kept trekking forward, never adverting his golden eyed gaze from looking ahead of  
the party. He answered calmly, sniffling his nose loudly.  
"Cuz he used to be a woman."  
"HOLD. THE FUCK! UUUPPP!" the dwarf's voice echoed throughout the forest treetops, temporarily  
stopping the harmonious territorial songs of the resident birds.  
"Shyeah. Y'all ain't know?" replied Legolas calmly; "Elf folks can change sex when we want to.  
I mean it like hitting a light switch. It kinda like...gettin that EBT card. Y'know, you choose  
thatchu want too. Then you do the damn thang to make the shit do the shit. Then you wait for  
awhile. Then bam. You got a coochie. And some big ol's. Some dudes get little ol's. But still.  
And you cain't change back for a long ass time, so you better be sure about it. Because if you  
want yo coochie back, or yo balls back, you gonna have to wait a good ass long time befo you  
can turn back. F'real."  
The quad of hobbits stopped in their tracks to interject in what they overheard.  
"I'mma...a bg need to sit down yall." uttered Frodo.  
"Daaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuuuuummmmm!" replied Merry and Pippin in unison.  
"Ay Yo trigga, can I fuck?" inquired Samwise.  
"You best fuck a rock, with yo fat brillo pad lookin face! I aint sweet! I been a G, and I'm  
a OG now! Back yo ass up, befo I put 2 o these arrows in yo ass. Shoot some weight off yo  
fat big footed ass. I'm TRIGGA!" fiercely retorted the elvish archer, his eyes ablaze with  
emotion he rarely showed."  
"Y'all hobbits thirsty as fuck." replied Boromir from behind, strangely unaffected by this  
revelation.  
"PRETTY NIGGA, NAHHH! YO DADDY A WOMAN?!" the burly little dwarf interjected.  
"Naw, that my momma. See, now I just say King Momma. I mean, look she look all kingly and  
masculine and shit now, but she still git up in the mornin with a head full ah rollers and  
them run-over slippers, and that green shit on her face. She still look old as fuck, but  
that my momma, I respect my momma. Momma talk and look like a man nah, but he still make  
grits and grilled cheese in the mornin' like he used to do as a lady. Ain't nun change.  
F'Real."  
"You a woman?!" agitatedly inquired the dwarf.  
"Didn't I just tell that lil cupcake nigga in the back NO?! Nah...I ain't nurr been...  
Aight! Look! Okay! I was born a dude, right?! But, see, Y'all KNOW Legolas be a connosieur  
of them hos! See...I...I used to not be able to get nare nutter ho. I had my elvish white  
tee on lock. Had my elvish matchin cap to the side, my leather shoe game was ON POINT! Nope,  
nare nutter hoe. So, see, Legolas a smart nigga. I got that spy mentalitee, f'real. So I said,  
lemme see whats up with these hoes, so I, like, this one time, I might have...turned into  
a girl. FOR A LEEL BIT! A LEEL BIT! And I ain't gon' lie, I was busted like a muther fuckah.  
Big ass chin, big ol' forehead and shit. First time I saw myself in the mirror, I said  
"Bitch, you busted." But that besides the point. See, so a nigga strolled in with them hoes.  
But I had to change my name so they wouldnt know it was me, right? See, I got that spy shit down!  
So I was like "Oooooh, girl, what's good? My name be Lego-Lah." See? See how a elf smart on 'em?!"

The grey wizard smiled and shook his head in a quiet amusement. "Damn, man...ignorant ass like  
a muh fuckah..." he whispered to himself.

"So see," the elf continued, "So I was rollin with these hoes, and they was fine too. I mean  
FINE! Baby girl had them Air Jordan pumps on, she had them Sam's Club signs in her hair and  
shit, I mean I was all like damn. INSIDE tho! Cuz, yknow, I got James Bond on 'em."  
"NIGGA, WHO THE FUCK IS JAMES BOND?!" contorted Gimli.  
"He the...he-he-he the spy dude. You know!"  
"Dumb ass bitch, you cant be clashing universes and shit like that?! C'mon now!"  
"Lil rock nigga, fuck you. I'mma do what I want. I'm like 200 or some shit. I'm grown! Interrupt  
me again and I'll slap them red naps off them crusty busted ass lips you got. Anyway, as I was  
sayin, so I was James Bond on 'em. And I learned all kinda shit. I got my hurr dunn, nails dunn,  
I even got me a weave from Shelob!"  
"You mean that big, hateful ass spider bitch with all them keeds?"  
"YEAH! I walked up in there wit my girls, and saw all this webs, and shit. This big ass scary  
spider came rollin' up, I aint gon lie, I was scared. I don't like spiders, y'all. Hell naw.  
Fuck a arrow, I'm gone. But they was like LeGolah chill girl! So she came up hissin and shit,  
and babygirl was like "Shelob, girrrrrrrllll, you got the FINEST weaves in Middle Earff, girl!  
Woooo, who do yo hurr?!" Maaaan, that big spider sat down, put her hands up on her and them  
fangs started movin too, she was like "I do my own hurr, girl. I ain't gon lie, I'm a Christian,  
and I just got back from church, i was fen to eat yall, but girl, look, lemme do yo hurr. Yo hurr  
all stringy and flat, get in here gurl, dont mind these bad ass kids. SPYDELL! STOP THAT DAMN  
RUNNIN IN MY FUCKIN HOUSE!"  
"Damn, Shelob got too many kids. She ain't no real Christian with her people-eatin ass." replied  
Gimli.  
"So yeah, I got my weaves from Shelob, learned about these hoes, I was up in Shelob's gettin my  
hurr done every 1st and 5th too. F'Real. Before I paid rent, or did a damn thing, I got my hurr  
and nails did. So after I got shit down, I turned back into a G, into the boss THAT I YAM, and  
see, I got the weave, got my shoe game right, my elvish shit right, and thats why these hoes jus  
fall on a elfigga. F'Real."  
"I know bout Shelob, man. Me and them dwarves n nem, first time we saw a big ass spider like that,  
this big giant ass scary ass spider came just rollin up on us. We was scared, I was like fuck this  
shit. Nuh uh. Fuck honor, Hell naw. But see, then it started talkin. It was like "Hey Yall, whats  
good. Look, I know Imma big ass, ugly scary spider to yall but look. I'm on the real. I saw yall  
was fryin up some quesadas, and yall looked cool. Hey yo, my girl Shelob, she tryin to pin like,  
300 kids on me, sayin they mine. Them bitches aint mine. Ay yo, man, I'm Spidarius but they call  
me Ocho in the hood." So we was like Ocho?! And he said 'Check this here, homes.' And when he slid  
his legs into the light, maaaaaaaaaannnn, that nigga had 4 white jordans on one side, and 4 black  
jordans on the other. We was all like DDDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYUUUUUUMMMMM, ol boy ON THE FLEEK!  
That nigga, Spidarius was cool man. He was wrong though, always playing Madden on the X-Box, he  
never would say Shelob's kids was his. First time we saw her, she said she had something for his  
big abdomen ass. Ay yo, Legolas, what happened to the homie?"  
"Ah Rock, she ate that nigga man. He wouldn't go to church, so she ate him, then took them bad  
ass kids to sunday school."  
"Damn! She wrong man. She aint no real Christian. Always got her 8 legs in the air praising the  
Lord, but eat a nigga the next minute. She aint real."  
But in that instance, a foul scent hit the wind. The first to catch it was the elvish archer,  
identifying the scent of orcs. But unlike his past experiences, the sounds of rapid marching  
came up just as fast as the scent. They had tracked them, down wind, and burst upon them.  
This was more intelligent than any orc any had ever known. The party drew their weapons and  
began to run, the sound of two and three hundred pound bodies racing forward in a inhuman  
speed gave the realization this was much more than they could hope to survive.  
"AY YO, DERE DEY GO! DERE DEM NIGGAS GO!" cried a gruff, loud voice from five  
hundred feet away.


End file.
